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"BEFORE  THE  MURDERER'S  SHAKING  HAND  COULD  STEADY  ME, 
I  LEAPED  OFF  THE  ROAD." 

Frontispiece       (p.  125.) 


CHAMPION 


BY 

JOHN    COLIN    DANE 

AUTHOR    OF 

"The  Hidden  House,"  etc. 


ILLUSTRATIONS  BY 

W.   E.  WEBSTER 


G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS  NEW  YORK 


COPYRIGHT,  1907,  BY 

G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  COMPANY 

[All  rights  reserved] 

Issued  April,  1907 

CHAMPION 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAGE 

I — I  Am  Born,  and  Start  in  Life                   .  9 

II — I  Am  Dressed 33 

III — I  See  Toinette 42 

IV— I  See  the  World  and  Find  Myself       .        .  55 

V— I  See  the  Most  Beautiful  Girl  of  All         .  66 

VI— I  Come  to  Paris 84 

VII— I  Start  to  Win  the  Cup  101 

VIII— I  Do  What  I  Can 114 

IX— I  Find  Out  What  Arnaud  Meant     .        .  118 

X— I  Suffer  All  Things 127 

XI — I  Fall  Into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy         .  1 37 

XII — I  See  Once  More  the  Man  of  the  Cross-road  150 

XIII — I  Overhear  a  Strange  Conversation          .  157 

XIV— I  Suffer  a  Great  Change     .        .        .        .176 

XV — I  Become  an  Adventurer         .        .        .  195 

XVI — I  Am  Dragged  Into  Strange  Schemes         .  213 

XVII — I  Am  Initiated  Into  Certain  Mysteries     .  234 

XVIII— I  Lose  My  Temper 251 

XIX— I  Fall  Upon  Evil  Days     ....  269 

XX — I  Sing  "The  March  of  the  Cameron  Men"  .  287 

2135058 


LIST  OF  ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

"  Before  the  Murderer's  Shaking  Hand  Could  Steady  Me,  I  Leaped 

Off  the  Road." Frontispiece     125 

"  Mademoiselle  Patted  His  Hair." 46 

"  He  Objected,  and  Argued,  but  She  Cooed  Him  Down."          .  82 

"  It  Was  Barr-Simons."         .         .         .         .         .         .         .         .150 

"  Fanning  Was  Lighting  the  Lamp."          .....         186 

"  He  Accompanied  His  Client  ...  to  the  Edge  of  the  Pavement."  223 
"  '  I  Could  Hardly  Pick  Up  My  Winnings.'  "          ....    240 

"  He  Took  the  Opportunity  of  Avenging  Old  Iniquities."  .         270 


CHAMPION 

CHAPTER  I. 

/  Am  Born,  and  Start  in  Life. 

"Champion  thou  shalt  be;  and  Champion  I  name 
thee,"  solemnly  pronounced  the  nicest  voice  in  my 
world. 

I  had  heard  only  one  or  two  others;  but  if  a  motor- 
car is  going  to  be  worth  its  petrol  and  oil,  there  are  a 
great  many  things  which  it  must  be  born  knowing, 
or  it  will  never  know  them  at  all.  Among  the  things 
I  already  knew — although  I  wasn't  exactly  born  yet — 
was,  that  there  could  be  no  nicer  voice  in  any  world 
than  that  of  my  creator  and  Master.  I  knew  also  that, 
whatever  should  happen  to  me  in  the  future,  he  would 
be  the  only  man  to  really  matter  in  my  existence. 
Others  might  come  and  go,  but  if  I  were  his  Champion, 
he  was  my  Hero. 

I  didn't  carburate  these  thoughts  at  that  moment 
precisely  as  I  am  carburating  them  now ;  for,  as  I  say, 
I  had  not  happened  to  be  born,  though  I  could  feel  it 
coming  on,  and  that  the  great  event  might  occur  at  any 
instant. 

9 


Champion 

"You're  going  to  make  the  biggest  sensation  yet 
in  the  automobile  world,  my  beauty,"  said  the  dear 
voice.  It  had  talked  a  great  deal  to  me,  and  often  to 
itself,  in  my  acquaintance  with  it,  so  I  had  come  to 
understand  every  mood  of  my  Master's,  from  its 
sound. 

"This  is  your  great  day,  and  my  great  day — the  day 
of  our  lives — so  far,"  the  voice  went  on.  "But  there's 
going  to  be  a  bigger  one  by  and  by ;  that's  what  we're 
working  up  to;  that's  what  you're  born  for." 

"Am  I  born,  then?"  I  wondered.  "Is  this  all — or  is 
there  more  to  come?" 

I  hoped  there  was  more,  for  I  had  been  looking  for- 
ward for  so  long,  that  if  this  were  all,  I  was  disap- 
pointed in  the  sensation. 

I  had  been  looking  forward,  semi-consciously,  from 
the  dim  days  when  my  cylinders  were  being  bored,  and 
pistons  fitted.  Then  the  first  glimmering  of  self- 
knowledge  began  to  filter  through  the  me-hess,  which 
was  not  yet  me;  but  I  could  not  have  exploded  into 
words  in  that  embryo  time. 

It  was  only  to-day — this  glorious  to-day — that  all 
my  parts  had  been  "assembled."  Loving  hands  fitted 
my  valves  together,  adjusting  the  cams  with  nicety,  as 
if  I  were  a  debutante  being  dressed  for  her  presenta- 
tion. (That  is  the  sort  of  thing  I  have  learned  since 
then;  making  comparisons,  and  so  on;  but  there  are 

10 


Champion 

plenty  of  other  things  that  jump  into  a  motor's  bonnet 
with  the  first  turn  of  the  crank,  which  sets  his  or  her 
heart  beating  and  the  joy  of  life  quivering  through 
every  molecule.) 

I  was  securely  fastened  to  the  floor  with  bolts,  as 
I  had  been  ever  since  I  was  put  together;  and  this 
was  why  I  felt  disappointed  when  my  Master  said  it 
was  my  Great  Day.  Nothing  had  actually  happened; 
nothing  was  definitely  different.  Was  this  all? 

No,  it  was  not  all.  Into  a  tank  suspended  above  me 
there  fell  the  gurgle  of  liquid,  which  I  began  to  taste 
and  smell  as  it  mingled  with  my  being.  It  was  exqui- 
site in  flavor — ^er  I  am  sure  than  grape-juice  could 
be,  or  the  purest  spring  water.  Hardly  had  I  assimi- 
lated this  beverage  when  into  my  crank-chamber 
gushed  a  wave  of  beautifully  refined  oil,  silky  and  ease- 
giving,  like  balm. 

This,  indeed,  was  being  born !  But  there  was  more, 
much  more  to  follow. 

I  was  highly  excited  at  these  preparations ;  and  when 
my  Master,  paying  me  an  occasional  compliment  as 
he  worked,  fitted  to  the  sparking-plugs  in  my  cylinders 
wires  that  came  from  an  electric  coil,  I  could  hardly 
control  my  impatience.  I  longed  to  be — something, 
somewhere — I  knew  not  what,  or  where.  But  the 
longing  was  very  strong. 

Suddenly  a  radiant  vision  blazed  into  my  waiting 

ii 


Champion 

engine.  In  a  flash  I  realized  that  there  was  a  glorious 
world  outside  this  workroom  where  I  had  been  cre- 
ated; that  there  were  splendid  things  in  it,  mountains 
and  valleys  laced  with  white  roads,  strange  continents 
to  be  conquered ;  and  that  I  had  been  made  to  conquer 
them. 

It  was  at  this  instant  that  the  greatest  wonder  hap- 
pened. 

My  Master  had  put  a  handle  to  my  crank-axle ;  and 
now  he  gave  that  quick,  abrupt  turn  I  mentioned. 
What  rapture!  Instinctively  I  knew  what  was  re- 
quired of  me,  though  I  made  no  conscious  effort.  I 
was  I.  My  carbureter  drew  in  a  breath  of  that  in- 
toxicating liquor,  which  is,  for  a  motor,  the  elixir  of 
life,  sprayed  it  into  a  finer  powder,  and  mixed  it  with 
exactly  the  proper  proportion  of  air.  My  twelve 
valves,  working  with  no  less  certainty  and  precision 
than  the  heavenly  bodies  themselves,  sucked  the  ec- 
static draft  into  the  cylinders.  At  this — marvel  upon 
marvel — a  spark  of  electricity  glowed  into  a  little  flash 
that  leaped  across  from  one  point  to  another  in  a  flame. 
The  flame  united,  in  a  spasm  of  joy,  with  the  vapor  in 
my  first  cylinder.  Then,  in  a  burst  of  rapture,  they 
expanded,  exploded! 

I  laughed  in  my  wild  happiness,  and  had  not  my  si- 
lencer prevented  I  should  have  shouted  aloud. 

"We'll  show  the  world — you  and  I  together,  my 

12 


Champion 

Champion,"  said  the  dear  voice,  and  my  heart  rejoiced 
at  the  words.  I  resolved,  with  something  like  a  tear 
rising  in  my  carbureter,  that  I  would  always  do  my 
best  for  the  Master  who  had  done  everything  for  me ; 
that  I  would  be  a  true  and  faithful  automobile;  that  I 
would  never  back  fire;  that  I  would  have  no  tempers 
and  no  whims,  anyhow,  when  he  was  driving  me ;  that 
day  and  night  I  would  do  all  in  my  combustion-cham- 
bers to  serve  my  Hero. 

How  stupid  now  seemed  the  old,  glimmering  half- 
existence  which  was  all  I  had  known  of  life!  I  could 
hear  distinctly  through  my  completed  valves ;  and,  bet- 
ter still,  I  could  see — see  clearly  for  the  first  time,  with 
my  sparking-plugs,  of  course.  Later  on  my  lamps 
would  help,  just  as  spectacles  help  near-sighted  eyes; 
but  an  automobile  does  not  actually  need  lamps  to  see 
what  is  going  on  in  front  of  his  bonnet,  even  at  night. 

I  should  have  been  a  monstrous  piece  of  mechanism 
if  I  hadn't  delighted  in  my  first  flashing  glimpse  of  my 
Master,  whom,  until  this  illuminated  minute,  I  had 
known  only  through  his  voice  and  skilled  touches.  But 
honestly,  I  had  not  expected  to  be  as  delighted  as  I 
was. 

Young  myself,  and  modern  with  the  modernness  of 
day  after  to-morrow,  naturally  I  admired  youth;  and 
it  would  have  been  a  blow  on  the  ignition  if  I  had  seen 
him  old  or  plain.  But,  with  the  first  faint  spark  that 

13 


Champion 

kindled  the  joy  of  life  in  me,  I  saw  him  youthful, 
handsome,  and  strong. 

He  wore  workmen's  overalls,  and  his  sleeves  were 
rolled  up  over  arms  where  the  muscles  rippled  under 
the  smooth  skin,  like  steel  under  satin,  or,  as  I  know 
now,  like  tiny  waves  astir  beneath  the  still,  satin  sur- 
face of  southern  seas.  He  was  tall,  with  broad  shoul- 
ders and  a  noble  -throat  which  rose  above  the  collar  of 
blue  cotton,  brown  where  the  sleek  dark  head  was  set 
upon  it,  white  below.  His  face  was  brown,  too,  which 
suited  his  features,  and  it  was  a  good  thing  that  he 
wore  no  mustache  or  beard,  for  his  mouth  and  chin, 
firm  and  kind,  were  worth  showing.  There  might  be 
times  when  they  would  look  dogged,  perhaps ;  but  there 
was  something  about  the  cut  of  the  lips  which  made  me 
think  that  he  would  never  fail  to  see  the  funny  side  of 
life.  With  his  dark  hair  and  brown  skin — eyebrows 
and  eyelashes  of  the  blackest — I  suppose  he  ought  to 
have  had  brown  eyes ;  but,  instead,  they  were  the  bluest 
things  I  could  imagine — blue  as  the  wild  flowers  in 
fields  through  which  often,  since  then,  I  have  run. 

Those  eyes  were  looking  at  me  with  pride  and  ad- 
miration, and  I  worshiped  him.  I  would  rather  have 
crawled  at  his  feet  on  my  lowest  speed  to  make  him 
understand,  once  and  for  all,  what  I  felt  for  him,  than 
I  would  win  a  race ;  unless  the  race  were  for  his  honor 
and  glorification. 

14 


Champion 

I  was  dying  to  prove  what  I  could  and  would  do 
for  his  sake,  and  I  hoped  that  he  was  going  to  give  me 
an  opportunity,  beginning  from  that  very  moment. 
But,  whether  or  not  he  had  any  idea  of  letting  me 
show  my  paces,  a  thing  happened  just  then  which 
would  in  any  case  have  prevented  him  from  putting  it 
into  practise. 

There  came  a  quick  tapping  at  the  closed  door  of 
the  workshop. 

My  Master  gave  a  start  of  surprise  and  frowned 
with  impatience  because,  for  one  thing,  he  probably 
didn't  want  to  be  interrupted ;  and  for  another,  it  was 
a  new  knock,  different  from  the  only  other  knock 
which  had  ever  sounded  on  that  door  within  my  recol- 
lection. 

The  usual  knocking  came  in  two  clear,  strong  raps, 
and  was  given  by  the  one  man  who  had  helped  my 
Master  in  creating  me.  When  he  went  out  and  left 
my  Hero  alone  he  always  knocked  when  he  came 
back;  but  when  my  Master  returned  after  an  absence, 
he  walked  straight  in,  by  which  fact  I  might  have  de- 
duced— even  if  there  had  not  been  a  hundred  other 
ways  for  the  most  embryo  piece  of  mechanism  to  dis- 
cover the  truth — that  my  Master  was  master  of  the 
man,  as  well  as  of  me. 

He  hesitated  for  a  few  seconds;  then,  going  to  the 
door,  opened  it  half-way  and  looked  out. 

15 


Champion 

"Why,  Sheila!"  I  heard  him  exclaim.  "Dear  little 
girl,  how  did  you  find  me?" 

"You'd  never  guess,  so  I  may  as  well  tell  you  at 
once,"  answered  a  pretty  voice  which,  though  light  and 
girlish,  had  tones  in  it  like  his. 

With  that  he  brought  her  into  the  workshop,  and  he 
did  not  shut  the  door  behind  him.  It  was  the  first  time 
it  had  ever  been  left  even  half-open,  and  I  caught  a 
glimpse  of  a  big  room  outside,  with  several  creatures, 
evidently  of  the  automobile  family,  standing  about. 
My  Master  had — as  he  thought — put  me  to  sleep  be- 
fore going  to  the  door;  but  once  alive,  always  alive, 
until  broken  up  for  old  iron,  with  a  thoroughbred 
motor  like  myself.  I  was  so  interested  in  these  poor 
relations  of  mine  that  I  hadn't  a  glance  to  spare  for 
my  Master's  new  companion. 

Two  of  the  unfortunate  machines  were  dismem- 
bered and  actually  rusty,  poor  wretches.  A  third  was 
alive,  and  making  the  most  horrid  grunting  noise, 
which  told  me  that  its  lubrication  was  as  bad  as  its 
manners ;  a  common  thing  it  was,  with  only  two  cylin- 
ders, while  each  of  the  broken-up  creatures  had  only 
one,  if  you  will  believe  it.  One  had  also  a  fractured 
axle,  and  betrayed  no  shame  in  revealing  an  abomin- 
able flaw  in  the  metal.  I  thanked  my  sparks  that  I 
had  been  kept  apart  from  such  society.  Not  one 
among  the  lot  was  a  machine  I  cared  to  know. 

16 


Champion 

"Oh,  Hugh,  how  sweet  it  does  seem  to  see  you 
again,"  the  newcomer  was  saying  excitedly. 

I  had  never  seen  a  girl  before;  but  looking  at  her 
made  me  hope  that  I  might  see  a  great  many  more,  if 
they  were  all  half  as  pretty  as  she. 

Her  hair  was  black,  like  my  Master's,  and  her  eyes 
of  the  same  bright,  turquoise  blue,  under  black  lashes ; 
but  instead  of  being  tall  and  muscular  she  was  a  little 
thing,  with  a  waist  for  which  I  think  my  Master  could 
have  made  a  belt  with  his  hands.  Her  face  was  not 
brown,  but  white,  with  a  color  on  the  cheeks  as  if 
some  one  had  struck  her  there  with  a  rose,  a  blow 
for  each  cheek,  and  the  pink  color  had  stained  the 
skin.  She  had  red,  red  lips,  and  they  were  smiling 
as  she  stood  on  tiptoe  with  her  gloved  hands  on  my 
Master's  shoulders. 

"And  for  me  to  see  you,  Kittens,"  he  answered  her. 
"But  you  haven't  explained  yet  the  mystery  of  how 
you  came  to  find  me  in  this  den." 

"It  isn't  a  mystery.  I  saw  you.  I've  been  in 
town  for  a  week,  staying  with  Edith  Barr-Simons, 
and " 

I  was  lying  with  my  valves  open  now,  drinkng  in 
every  word  they  said ;  and  as  I  had  no  bonnet  on,  I 
could  watch  each  change  of  their  expression.  My 
Master  flushed  up,  and  his  dark  eyebrows  drew  to- 
gether as  he  broke  in,  echoing:  "Barr-Simons!" 

17 


Champion 

"Of  course  you  must  hear  of  him  often,  as  he's  in 
the  motor-car  world.  He's  nobody  in  point  of  birth, 
and  awfully  nouveau  riche;  but  it  isn't  like  you  to  care 
'for  that,  and  yet " 

My  Master  laughed — a  nice,  amused  laugh,  though 
uncomfortable,  too.  "Heaven  forbid  I  should  care  for 
that.  But  Barr-Simons  is  my — well,  never  mind.  How 
could  you  know?  And  it's  better  that  you  shouldn't 
know." 

"If  you  mean  something  horrid,  perhaps  it  is  bet- 
ter, while  I'm  in  his  house,  eating  and  drinking  his 
things — such  frightfully  good  things,  too!  I  suppose 
it  isn't  that — that  you're  angry  about  Edith  marrying 
him,  for  you  wouldn't  look  at  her  in  spite  of  papa 
wanting  it  so  much.  And,  anyway,  poor  girl,  she  took 
him  quite  for  his  money." 

My  Master  laughed  again.  "No  doubt  that's  in  her 
favor.  But  her  marriage  is  nothing  to  me.  I  could 
never  stand  the  girl,  though  you  liked  her." 

"Well,  do  let's  talk  about  you.  Hugh,  darling  old 
boy,  never  a  day,  never  an  hour,  I  believe,  that  I 
haven't  thought  of  you.  You  can't  imagine  how  I 
felt,  when  I  saw  you  walk  into  this  place  yesterday.  I 
could  have  jumped  out  of  the  electric  brougham." 

"Mrs.  Barr-Simons'  electric  brougham?" 

"Yes,  she'd  lent  it  to  me  to  do  some  shopping " 

"She  wasn't  with  you  herself?" 

18 


Champion 

"No." 

"The  Saints  be  praised.  But — did  you  say  anything 
about  seeing  me?" 

"Not  a  word.  I  never  speak  of  you  to  Edith,  for 
— well,  I  can't  help  fancying  she  rather  liked  you,  and 
has  a  feeling  as  if  you'd  slighted  her,  though  she 
doesn't  visit  it  on  me.  And  though,  in  your  day,  there 
was  no  Mr.  Barr-Simons  in  the  field,  she  may  have 
talked  to  him  about  you,  and  made  him  jealous. 
Otherwise  he  would  hardly  know  of  your  existence." 

"Oh,  wouldn't  he?  He  would  probably  be  glad  to 
hear  to-morrow  that  I'd  ceased  to  have  one." 

"Hugh!    What  do  you  mean?" 

"I'd  rather  not  explain,  girlie,  especially  while  you're 
in  his  house.  Tell  me  things  about  yourself,  and  about 
dear  little  Mater,  and — the  Governor." 

"They're  both  well.  Mama's  as  sweet  and  gentle 
as  ever,  and — and  as  deadly  afraid  of  upsetting  papa. 
And  he — oh,  dearest,  he's  just  the  same  about  you, 
just  as  hard  and  unforgiving.  He  was  so  proud  of 
you,  you  know.  It  was  all  mixed  up  with  his  pride  of 
family,  and  everything.  He  isn't  conceited,  of  course ; 
he's  miles  above  that.  But  I  suppose  it  is  rather  un- 
usual for  a  peer  to  become  a  parson ;  and  people  have 
always  told  him  how  noble  and  wonderful  he  was.  He 
did  so  want  you  to  follow  in  his  footsteps,  and  he  hates 
not  getting  what  he  wants." 

19 


Champion 

"So  do  I.    No  doubt  I've  inherited  it." 

"Oh,  if  you  only  could  have  got  what  you  wanted! 

If  you  could  have  made  a  great,  great  success  in  your 

chosen  work — the  work  you  would  choose  in  spite  of 

everything — maybe,  in  the  end,  papa  would  gradually 

have  found  himself  forgiving  you.     But " 

"Well,  Kittens?  Don't  be  afraid  to  finish." 
"I'd  rather  die  than  hurt  your  feelings,  Hugh,  dear; 
but — it's  awfully  sad  and  disappointing,  isn't  it,  that 
you're  just — just  nothing  but  a  mechanic  still?  Not  a 
common  mechanic,  of  course.  Even  those  horrid  blue 
overalls  look  picturesque  and  romantic  on  you,  be- 
cause you're  such  a  gentleman,  and  so  handsome.  Still, 
it  almost  broke  my  heart  to  see  you  in  them  yesterday, 
and  when  I  got  back  to  Edith's  I  cried.  I  was  dying 
to  stop  the  brougham  here,  and  follow  you  in,  but 
of  course,  I  didn't  dare.  Edith's  maid  was  with  me. 
She's  most  particular,  and  won't  let  me  stir  out  of 
the  house  alone — so  different  from  what  she  used  to 
be  when  you  thought  her  fast  and  manny.  Then, 
there  wasn't  another  free  moment  till  to-day.  I 
thought  half  the  night  about  plans  to  get  at  you — I 
took  it  for  granted  that  this  was  the  place  where  you 
were  working,  and  that  I  should  find  you  here — and 
at  last  I  hit  on  an  idea.  I  made  Edith  drop  me  at  Mrs. 
Edwardes' — my  old  governess,  you  know — the  second 

one — and  she'll  call  for  me  there  after  a  big  bazaar 

20 


Champion 

which  I  said  would  tire  me  to  death.  I  shall  have  to 
be  back  at  Eddie's  in  an  hour,  so  you  see  we  must 
just  talk  seventeen  to  the  dozen  in  the  little  time  we 
have  together." 

"Dear  old  Kittens !"  said  my  Master  in  a  nicer  tone 
than  he  had  ever  used  to  me,  so  nice  that  I  was  almost 
jealous  of  the  girl  he  called  "Sheila,"  and  "Kittens," 
though  she  was  so  pretty,  and  so  like  him  that  I 
couldn't  help  feeling  soft  toward  her.  But,  perhaps, 
it  was  partly  that  oil  in  my  crank-chamber. 

"So  you  came  to  me,  though  you  thought  my  blue 
overalls  were  a  sign  of  failure!  Good  little  girl.  I 
always  knew  you  were  a  trump,  and  I'd  have  given 
anything  to  write  or  hear  from  you.  But  you  had  to 
promise  the  Governor,  just  as — the  Mater  did." 

"Yes.  I  was  sure  you  understood.  But,  oh,  Hugh, 
aren't  you  a  failure,  then  ?" 

"Can  you  keep  a  secret?" 

"Of  course  I  can.  Are  you  going  to  tell  me  one? 
How  splendid!  Do  shut  the  door." 

"Not  necessary.  No  one  would  guess  that  the 
lovely  young  lady  in  white  muslin  is  the  sister  of  the 
mechanic  in  blue  overalls,  dear ;  and — we  can't  be  over- 
heard. There's  my  secret."  And  he  pointed  to  me. 
"Such  a  dead  secret  that  you  and  I  are  standing  be- 
tween it  and  the  door  which  has  never  been  open  so 

long  since  I  hired  the  premises  for  purposes  of  my 

21 


Champion 

own.  It's  a  secret  that,  I  hope  and  believe,  is  going 
to  win  me  fame  and  fortune,  enough  of  both  to  recon- 
cile the  Governor  to  everything  I've  done,  perhaps 
even  to  make  him  and  all  of  you  a  little  bit  proud  of 
me.  It's  such  a  big  secret  that  I  live  in  constant  fear 
of  having  it  found  out  and  being  robbed  of  my  tri- 
umph— my  triumph  that  I've  worked  so  hard — you 
can't  guess  how  hard — to  earn." 

"How  you're  making  my  heart  beat!"  exclaimed  the 
girl.  "Go  on — tell  me  everything." 

"It  will  be  difficult  to  make  you  understand.  You 
don't  know  anything  about  motor-cars,  and  this " 

"But  I  do — I  know  lots.  I've  learned  things,  for 
your  sake.  We  were  always  such  chums,  you  and  I, 
and  you  were  so  good  and  patient  with  me,  though  I 
must  have  seemed  a  silly  little  wretch  to  a  boy  six 
years  older  than  I.  It  broke  my  heart  to  have  you 
go  away — to  know  you  were  being  turned  out.  It 
spoiled  home  for  me — and  having  to  promise,  almost 
swear,  to  papa  not  to  write.  You  know  how  he  makes 
one  do  things ;  and  you  said,  too,  it  would  be  better  to 
obey  him,  that  day  when  we  told  each  other  good-by." 

"I  was  right.  You  couldn't  have  gone  on  living  at 
home  if  you'd  disobeyed,  and  I'd  nothing  to  give  you 
then  that  could  make  up.  But  it  will  be  different  soon. 
I  shall  have  things  to  offer." 

"As  if  things  could  make  any  difference!     But  I 

23 


Champion 

want  you  to  know  what  I  did,  when  you  left  us  to  be. 
as  papa  said,  a  'common  mechanic.'  I  bought  books 
about  motor-cars  and  read  them  and  talked  to  people. 
And  it's  the  one  subject  on  which  I  can  think  of  a 
word  to  say  to  Gilbert  Barr-Simons." 

"Dear,  the  less  you  have  to  say  about  motor-cars 
to  him,  in  connection  with  my  affairs,  the  better  for 
me." 

"Why,  Hugh,  do  you  mean  something  special?" 

"Yes,  very  special.  I'll  tell  you  one  day,  perhaps, 
for  I  know  I  can  trust  my  little  sister  to  the  death. 
Otherwise  I  wouldn't  be  talking  to  her  as  I'm  talking 
now  about  my  secret.  You  say  you've  learned  things 
concerning  motors.  Well,  now's  the  time  for  you 
to  prove  how  much  you  know.  You  see  those  draw- 
ings on  the  walls?" 

As  my  Master  asked  his  sister  this  question  I  felt 
a  rush  of  petrol  to  the  carbureter.  When  he  alluded 
to  the  drawings  on  the  wall  he  alluded  to  me. 

I  had  known  for  some  time  that  they  were  there, 
for  I  had  often  heard  Hugh  and  the  man  who  helped 
him  speak  of  these  designs,  and  no  sooner  had  I  seen 
my  Master  to-day,  than  I  gazed  long  and  earnestly 
at  them.  They  were  diagrams,  illustrating  all  my  dif- 
ferent parts,  and,  though  at  first  I  was  conscious  of 
shame  at  seeing  all  my  most  sacred  organs  exposed 
in  such  a  conspicuous  manner,  I  had  already  grown 


Champion 

accustomed  to  the  idea,  and  was  immensely  interested 
in  the  meaning  of  my  own  inner  workings  and  outer 
features.  It  is  a  good  thing  for  an  automobile,  as  well 
as  a  person,  to  know  itself  exactly  as  it  really  is;  and 
my  examination  of  the  beautifully  accurate  drawings 
was  not  calculated  to  lower  my  self-esteem.  I  could 
see  by  them  that  everything  about  me  was  as  perfect 
as  genius  and  skilled  workmanship  could  make  it. 
Also,  I  believed,  judging  from  those  poor  common 
things  I  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  in  the  next  room,  that 
there  was  something  extraordinarily  new  and  remark- 
able in  my  organization.  No  wonder  my  Master  and 
his  employee  hid  me  here,  as  if  I  were  the  Grand 
Lama  of  Tibet;  while  other  less  aristocratic  motors 
stood  outside,  jumbled  up  with  sordid  lathes,  screw- 
cutting  and  planing-machines. 

Now  Hugh  was  going  to  explain  me  to  his  sister, 
telling  her  all  the  things  I  knew  about  myself  and  him, 
probably  a  great  many  that  I  didn't,  but  would  like  to. 
I  listened  with  all  my  valves. 

"There  on  the  walls,"  said  he,  "are  the  plans  that 
have  kept  me  busy,  heart  and  soul  and  mind,  for  the 
last  twelve  months.  Here  before  you  is  the  plans' 
completion";  and  he  pointed  to  me. 

"What  a  queer-looking  machine,  dearest.  Is  it  go- 
ing to  be  a  motor-car?" 

"I  should  rather  think  it  was  going  to  be  a  motor- 

24 


Champion 

car.  More  than  a  year  of  my  past  life,  all  my  future, 
and  every  penny  I  have  in  the  world  are  in  that  piece 
of  mechanism,  bless  it.  'Champion'  I've  named  it,  for 
luck;  and  if  Champion  doesn't  turn  out  a  champion 
after  all,  why,  I'm  a  ruined  as  well  as  a  disappointed 
man." 

When  I  heard  that  I  gulped  in  too  much  air  by  mis- 
take into  my  carbureter,  which  made  such  an  odd 
gurgling  noise  that  Miss  Sheila  gave  a  little  jump,  and 
glanced  round  as  if  she  expected  to  see  a  ghost.  Even 
Hugh  looked  puzzled,  as  if  wondering  what  on  earth 
was  the  matter  with  me;  but  after  the  first  shock  of 
excitement  I  didn't  betray  my  private  feelings  any 
further.  I  satisfied  myself  by  tightening  up  my  piston- 
rings,  at  a  place  where  I  knew  there  was  a  little  escape 
of  gas.  It  seemed  the  one  way  in  which  I  could  man- 
age at  the  moment  to  show  Hugh  that  I  would  do  all, 
and  more  than  all,  that  he  expected  of  me;  but  I'm 
afraid  he  didn't  notice. 

His  whole  fortune,  his  whole  future,  depending  c.i 
me !  My  cylinders  chilled  at  the  thought  of  such  a  re- 
sponsibility. But  I  knew  that  I  had  the  power  as 
well  as  the  will  to  justify  his  expectations. 

"Uncle  Malcolm's  money,"  said  Sheila. 

"Yes,"  my  Master  repeated,  "Uncle  Malcolm's 
money.  Good  old  Uncle  Malcolm;  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  him,  I  suppose  I  should  have  had  to  cave  in  to 

25 


Champion 

the  Governor.  But  no,  I  couldn't.  Of  all  things  on 
earth,  the  last  one  I'm  fitted  to  be  is  a  parson,  and  you 
know  that,  Kittens." 

"You'd  have  made  a  dangerously  handsome  curate," 
said  she,  giggling,  "and  there'd  have  been  dreadful 
havoc  among  the  girls." 

"Well,  thank  Heaven — and  Uncle  Malcolm,  who's 
there  now — that  I  did  have  the  money  to  see  me 
through,  on  the  way  I  wanted  to  go — the  only  way 
for  me.  It's  made  me  a  skilled  mechanician,  a  skilled 
engineer,  I  may  say  without  conceit.  I  don't  think 
there's  much  to  know  about  motors  that  I  haven't 
learned  in  the  most  practical  schools,  in  these  last  years 
since  I  left  home;  all  the  knowledge  I  was  continually 
trying  to  get  as  a  boy  I've  got  now — at  my  fingers' 
ends." 

"I  remember  how  you  invented  the  dearest  little 
motor-car  for  my  doll,  before  motors  were  heard  of 
in  London,"  laughed  Sheila. 

"Well,  Champion's  the  development  of  that — the 
fine  flower  of  that  seed.  She — no,  he — for  Cham- 
pion's nothing  if  he's  not  masculine — is  something  ab- 
solutely new  in  automobiles.  He  is  the  perfect  achieve- 
ment of  the  idea  over  which  a  dozen  men  have  bun- 
gled ;  at  least,  I  have  every  reason  to  hope  and  believe 
so,  and  the  test  will  come  next  month,  with  the  Vander- 

yoorst  cup-race.     It's  a  race  for  inventors." 

26 


Champion 

"I  know.  I've  heard  Gilbert  Barr-Simons  talking 
about  it.  He  expects  to  win  with  a  car  he's  been  hav- 
,  ing  made  in  his  motor- works." 

"He  won't,  because  I'm  going  to  win  it  with  a  car 
I've  been  making  in  my  motor-works." 

"Yours?    Why,  have  you " 

"Behold  them,  my  child.  I  didn't  want  to  sell  my 
invention,  which,  unless  I'm  much  mistaken,  is  the 
very  thing  Barr-Simons  is  trying  to  work  out.  If  I 
did,  others  would  reap  the  reward,  and  I  should  be 
forgotten;  so,  when  my  idea  had  taken  clear  form 
in  my  brain,  I  put  every  penny  I  had  into  the  experi- 
ment, determining  to  make  a  specimen  car,  with  as 
little  help  as  possible,  and  run  it  in  this  race.  If  the 
cup  had  been  offered  to  fit  my  plans  it  couldn't  have 
suited  them  better,  for  any  man  who  has  invented  a 
novelty  is  invited  to  compete  without  explaining  the 
mechanism  until  the  race  is  over — quite  a  new  thing  in 
the  way  of  motor-racing,  and  very  sporting  of  Van- 
clervoorst." 

"Gilbert  Barr-Simons  knows  him,"  said  Sheila. 

"I  don't,  but  I  hope  to.  I'm  not  much  in  the  way 
of  knowing  American  or  other  millionaires  at  present; 
but  I'm  biding  my  time,  and  I  don't  think  I  shall  have 
to  wait  long  before  Vandervoorst  and  all  the  big  fel- 
lows who're  mad  about  motoring  will  take  as  much  in- 
terest in  me  as  I  do  in  them.  I've  been  working  here 

27 


Champion 

in  secret,  you  know,  Kittens,  with  only  one  man  to 
help  me.  I  wouldn't  have  had  him  if  I  could  have 
done  without  any  one ;  but  there  were  things  I  couldn't 
manage  single-handed.  I  took  this  workshop,  which 
has  been  costing  me  a  pot  of  money,  a  lot  more  than 
you'd  think  possible  to  look  at  it,  and  I  and  my  man, 
Arnaud — a  clever  chap  I  brought  over  from  the  Fer- 
nand-Panton  works  in  France,  where  I  learned  more 
than  anywhere  else — have  had  access  to  the  casting- 
shops  and  forges,  and  all  that.  Not  another  soul  ex- 
cept Arnaud  and  I  have  touched  any  important  part 
of  my  motor  in  the  making;  yet  there  she  stands,  per- 
fection— a  revolutionizes " 

"You  called  her  'him'  a  little  while  ago." 

(I  gurgled  at  this;  I  could  not  help  it,  but  nobody 
heard  me.  The  handsome  brother  and  sister  were 
absorbed  in  each  other,  though  the  conversation  was 
of  me.) 

"Oh,  well,  one's  used  to  saying  'she,'  when  one 
speaks  of  a  car.  But  Champion  is  altogether  excep- 
tional. He  combines  the  best  qualities  of  the  male  and 
female,  so  it  doesn't  much  matter  which  you  call  him. 
As  a  masculine  motor  and  the  knightly  gentleman  he 
is,  Champion  will  never  fail  me  through  any  hysterical 
whimsies,  I  know." 

("I  must  live  up  to  that,"  I  thought.) 

"Why  have  you  been  so  secretive?"  asked  Sheila. 

28 


Champion 

"Because,  my  child,  others  are  on  the  road  toward 
making  the  discoveries  I've  made,  though  no  one  else 
has  yet  reached  the  end.  Barr-Simons  is  the  nearest 
to  it,  I  think,  but  he's  come  to  a  standstill  now,  for 
the  want  of  one  little  inspiration  which  my  guardian 
angel  popped  into  my  head  a  year  ago.  Motor  people 
aren't  exactly  saints;  and  if  anybody  got  on  to  my  idea 
before  I  was  ready  to  patent  it " 

''But  why  don't  you  patent  it?" 

"Because — Barr-Simons  has  been  very  fond  of  the 
Patent  Office  lately." 

"Oh,  Hugh,  you  don't  mean " 

"I'm  afraid  I  do.  He  wouldn't  stop  at  anything. 
On  the  day  of  the  race,  when  it's  too  late  for  him  or 
any  one  else  to  cheat  me  out  of  the  ten  thousand 
pounds  I  hope  Champion's  going  to  win,  I  shall  patent 
my  invention.  It's  a  risk  to  delay,  of  course;  but  I 
have  my  own  reasons  for  thinking  it's  a  worse  risk 
the  other  way." 

"Is  Gilbert  Barr-Simons  a  man  like  that? — Edith's 
husband !" 

"Gilbert  Barr-Simons  is  a  man  exactly  like  that; 
and  perhaps  all  the  more  because  he  is  Edith's  husband. 
You  see,  he  knows  that  the  Pater  was  keen  on  her 
marrying  me,  in  the  old  days  when  she  used  to  visit  us. 
He'd  got  a  silly,  jealous  notion,  I  fancy,  that  she  liked 


29 


Champion 


"So  she  did." 

t 
"Pooh,   I  don't  believe  it.     Anyhow,  a  schoolgirl 

fancy  for  a  boy  of  her  own  age.  But  she  is  of  our  sort, 
our  class;  and  he — well,  he's  Barr-Simons." 

"D,o  you  think  he's  half  Spanish  ?    He's  very  dark." 

"In  some  of  his  dealings  as  well  as  complexion. 
Poor  Edith!  But  he's  got  a  few  millions,  and  I  dare 
say  he's  good  to  her." 

"He  gives  her  the  loveliest  pearls!  But  he's  often 
cross." 

"I  wish  you  were  out  of  his  house,  Kittens." 

"So  do  I,  after  what  you've  told  me — now  I  know 
he's  your  enemy." 

"If  that  were  all!  There  are  other  things.  But  I 
can  rely  on  you  not  to  mention  our  meeting?  If  you 
did,  he'd  find  some  way  of  getting  out  of  you  what  I'm 
doing,  and  what  you've  seen." 

"Can  you  trust  your  Frenchman?" 

"I  believe  I  can.  I  have  to.  If  he  were  a  traitor 
— but  I  won't  even  think  of  it.  That  way  madness 
lies.  And  so  far  as  I  can,  I  have  identified  his  interests 
with  mine." 

My  Master  and  his  sister  were  speaking  together  in 
very  low  tones,  so  low  that  nobody  outside  could  have 
distinguished  a  word  of  their  conversation,  not  even  a 
listener  at  the  door  which  Hugh  had  for  the  first  time 
left  ajar.  The  two  were  standing  close  to  me,  screen- 

30 


Champion' 

ing  my  form  from  view,  if  any  one  had  tried  to  peep 
in.  No  one  had,  but  when  they  had  reached  this  point 
in  their  talk  my  valves  told  me  that  Jean  Arnaud  was 
crossing  the  big  outer  room,  coming  back  to  his  master 
and  to  me,  after  finishing  lunch.  I  heard  his  step; 
also  I  heard  him  whistle  a  little  French  air  which  got 
on  my  electric  wires  in  the  most  irritating  way,  though 
it  was  a  favorite  of  his.  How  different  from  my  dear 
Master's  whistling  and  singing  it  was!  All  through 
my  long  probation  one  of  my  highest  pleasures  had 
been  to  listen  dreamily  when  Hugh  whistled  or 
hummed  his  favorites;  and  I  knew  that  till  the  day 
of  my  break-up  I  could  never  forget  "The  March  of 
the  Cameron  Men,"  and  "Charlie,  will  ye  no  come 
back  again?" 

Those  were  the  airs  I  liked  best,  the  ones  which 
thrilled  me  most,  especially  the  "Cameron  Men,"  for 
I  knew  that  my  Master  was  a  Cameron.  Jean  Arnaud, 
besides  calling  him  "Monsieur,"  sometimes  addressed 
him  as  "Monsieur  Cameron." 

I  have  not  said  anything  about  Jean  Arnaud  until 
now,  for  two  reasons.  One  is  that  he  was  away  at  his 
lunch  when  I  was  actually  born  into  the  full  vigor  of 
life;  therefore,  at  the  beginning  of  my  real  career,  it 
was — as  it  ought  rightfully  to  have  been — my  Master 
and  Hero  who  made  upon  me  the  first  tremendous  im- 
pression. The  second  reason  is  that  what  I  did  dimly 

31 


Champion 

know  of  Jean  Arnaud,  in  my  transition  stage,  I  did  not 
particularly  like. 

I  always  thought  he  had  a  hard,  vivisecting  way 
with  him,  as  he  screwed  strange  little  plugs  with  plati- 
num points  into  the  heads  of  my  cylinders,  and  did 
other  things  to  me  without  any  of  that  caressing  ten- 
derness Hugh  showed  in  every  touch.  It  was  easy  for 
even  a  half-alive  automobile,  in  progress  of  making,  to 
see  that  my  Master's  one  absorbing  interest  was  his 
creation;  but  Arnaud,  though  there  was  no  denying 
his  quickness  and  cleverness,  gave  the  impression  of 
being  absent-minded  sometimes.  If  I  had  known  as 
much  about  the  world  as  I  know  now,  I  should  have 
said  to  myself,  in  Jean's  own  language :  "Cherchez  la 
femme";  while  as  for  my  dear  Hugh  Cameron,  in 
those  days  there  wasn't  a  girl  in  the  universe  whose 
society  he  would  have  preferred  to  mine. 

Now,  as  Jean  Arnaud  came  toward  the  half-open 
door,  he  was  whistling  that  little  French  chanson, 
pretty  enough,  but  meant  for  a  woman's  voice.  I 
didn't  think  much  about  it  then,  for  I  was  deadly  tired 
of  it,  and  it  stopped  suddenly  just  outside  the  door. 
But  afterward  I  had  good  cause  to  be  haunted  by  that 
air.  It  was  called:  "La  Belle  Toinette." 


CHAPTER  II. 
/  Am  Dressed. 

Arnaud's  coming  put  an  end  to  any  confidences  be- 
tween my  Master  and  Miss  Sheila,  or  if  there  were  any 
more  they  must  have  been  exchanged  when  Hugh  saw 
his  sister  to  the  outer  door,  and  bade  her  good-by. 
When  the  girl  was  gone,  I  realized  that  the  presence  of 
a  pretty  creature  of  that  kind  brightened  up  a  place 
wonderfully,  and  I  felt  that  I  might  be  capable  of 
growing  deeply  attached  to  one  of  them. 

Arnaud  was  interested  and  curious,  I  could  tell,  by 
the  way  he  looked  over  his  shoulder  after  my  Master 
and  Sheila,  as  they  turned  to  go  away.  I  was  sure  he 
would  have  liked  to  ask  questions  about  the  young 
lady,  but  of  course  he  could  not  very  well,  for  the 
Master  and  he  were  not  on  that  sort  of  terms.  Even 
if  I  had  been  able  to  speak,  I  should  have  kept  mum, 
for  my  Master's  business  was  his  business  and  no- 
body else's,  unless  it  was  a  little  bit  mine.  But  though 
I  wasn't  very  fond  of  Arnaud,  I  would  never  have  be- 
lieved him  capable  of  taking  advantage  of  that  visit  of 
Miss  Sheila's,  as  he  did. 

The  rest  of  the  day,  I  was  encouraged  to  keep  quiet, 
but  next  morning,  earlier  than  the  ordinary  time  for 

33 


Champion 

their  arrival,  I  heard  Hugh's  voice,  and  Arnaud's,  at 
the  door.  There  was  an  unusual  stir  and  excitement, 
and  evidently  some  heavy  objects  were  being  brought 
in.  When  the  door  was  shut  and  locked  again,  Hugh 
came  and  took  off  the  wrapping  with  which  he  was 
accustomed  to  cover  me  up  when  I  was  left  alone. 

"Now  we'll  see  how  she  likes  her  new  clothes,"  said 
he  to  Jean. 

It  was  a  little  confusing  to  be  called  "he"  sometimes, 
and  then  "she."  But  I  felt  that  I  understood  what 
my  Master  meant.  No  doubt  he  had  made  me  with  a 
dual  nature,  and  at  certain  moments  my  masculine  at- 
tributes were  uppermost,  at  others  my  feminine.  And 
I  must  confess  that  no  little  seven-horse  power,  girly- 
girly  car  could  have  pricked  up  her  valves  at  the  sound 
of  the  word  "clothes"  much  more  eagerly  than  I  did. 
I  hoped  that  I  was  going  to  be  well  and  becomingly 
dressed.  At  present,  I  knew,  there  must  be  something 
a  little  bizarre  about  me,  or  Sheila  would  not  have 
been  surprised  to  hear  that  I  was  really  an  automo- 
bile. 

"Easy  now,"  said  my  Master;  and  then  he  and  Ar- 
naud  carefully  lifted  me  from  the  floor,  to  which,  until 
this  moment,  I  had  been  attached.  As  he  took  me  up, 
Hugh  whistled  "The  March  of  the  Cameron  Men," 
and  to  my  joy,  it  was  in  tune  with  that  stirring  music 
which  I  loved,  that  I  was  fitted  into  a  deliciously  com- 

34 


Champion 

fortable,  oblong  frame  of  steel,  strong  yet  light.  What 
stays  must  be  to  a  woman,  that  frame  instantly  became 
for  me,  and  I  knew  that  I  should  never  be  at  my  best 
without  it.  Fastened  to  this  frame  or  chassis,  into 
which  I  slipped,  was  a  neat  gray  body,  as  plain  yet  ele- 
gant as  the  tailor-made  dress  Sheila  had  worn  yester- 
day. It  had  two  small  seats  side  by  side,  and  was  quite 
different  from  the  bodies  of  the  poor,  common  things 
lurking  in  the  next  room.  Probably,  I  explained  to 
myself,  this  was  because  I  was  going  to  be  a  racer, 
while  they  were  every-day  jog-trot  creatures,  rubbing 
along  with  a  few  horse-power. 

While  I  was  being  dressed,  I  caught  sight  of  four 
beautiful  wheels,  which  I  knew  must  be  for  me,  and 
I  was  impatient  to  try  them  on;  but  I  had  plenty  of 
time  to  conquer  that  impatience  before  the  chance 
came. 

Time,  as  time,  had  hardly  existed  for  me  until  yes- 
terday, when  I  was  formally  born,  for  all  had  been  so 
dim  and  dreamy  that  yesterdays  merged  into  to-days 
and  to-days  into  to-morrows  without  my  feeling  the 
difference.  But  now,  since  I  had  once  been  set  going, 
I  was  able  to  measure  seconds  by  my  own  piston- 
strokes;  and  I  knew  too  well  that  days  passed  before 
I  was  fully  clad,  with  all  my  accessories  attached.  The 
uses  of  some  of  these  I  found  myself  understanding 
and  appreciating  by  instinct,  and  the  sensation  of  ease 

35 


Champion 

they  gave — my  wheels  especially — but  several  things 
were  puzzling,  and  most  of  all  a  curious  object  which 
Hugh  and  his  assistant  apparently  thought  more  im- 
portant than  anything  else.  It  was  a  very  queer  thing, 
and  such  experience  as  a  glimpse  or  two  of  those  other 
ca'rs  had  given,  afforded  me  no  clue  to  its  uses.  But 
the  wheels  pleased  me  so  much  that  I  did  not  fret 
about  this  contrivance,  hoping  to  learn  eventually  what 
I  was  to  do  with  it. 

My  Master  had  made  my  wheels,  not  contented  with 
mere  ready-made  things  such  as  can  be  fitted  on  to  any 
car;  and  I  learned  from  his  conversaton  with  Jean 
that  they  were  the  first  of  their  kind — an  experiment  of 
which  I  was  to  be  trusted  to  make  the  test.  They  had 
floating  rims,  and  springs  to  take  up  all  vibration  from 
the  road — that  wonderful,  unknown  road  which  I  was 
panting  to  try;  and  Hugh  told  Jean  that  he  was  cer- 
tain they  would  let  me  feel  no  shocks,  no  matter  how 
rough  the  going  might  be.  Though  the  tires  were 
of  iron,  he  would  warrant  I  should  "ride  as  easily  as 
the  Lord  Mayor  in  his  coach." 

"Yes,  Monsieur,"  answered  Arnaud,  always  out- 
wardly  sympathetic,  "if  our  motor  could  feel,  she 
would  be  intoxicated  by  the  resilience  of  her  own 
wheels." 

"She  can  feel,"  answered  Hugh,  with  a  good  laugh 
of  pride  in  me;  and  I  loved  him  more  than  ever  for 

36 


Champion 

understanding.  I  could  not  have  borne  to  be  no  more 
to  him  than  a  stick  or  a  stone. 

One  of  Hugh's  wisest  arrangements  for  my  speed 
and  comfort,  as  I  could  tell  from  the  moment  we  came 
together,  was  the  air-cooling  of  my  cylinders.  With- 
out this  contrivance  the  heat  of  my  endeavors  would 
have  developed  into  such  a  fever  that  I  should  have 
flown  into  a  delirious  frenzy,  burnt  up  all  my  oil,  and 
have  made  my  cylinder-walls  red-hot.  But  Hugh's 
thoughtfulness  had  provided  each  one  of  my  six  cylin- 
ders with  a  light  aluminum  case,  closed  at  the  top 
and  open  below.  A  powerful  fan,  which  I  learned  in 
a  flash  to  drive  myself,  pumped  a  constant  stream  of 
delicious  cool  air  all  round  my  combustion-chambers 
and  the  walls  of  my  cylinders,  so  that  I  could  work 
my  hardest,  putting  forth  all  my  tremendous  energy, 
without  turning  a  hair. 

These  details  and  others  I  could  have  explained  to 
the  stupidest  automobile  that  grunted  and  guzzled  in 
the  adjoining  room;  but  fitted  to  my  chassis  was  a 
thing  that  utterly  bewildered  me.  All  my  cleverness 
and  imagination  I  focused  upon  it  in  vain,  looking 
from  it  to  the  diagram  where  it  was  pictured — from 
the  diagram  back  to  the  thing  itself.  It  was  a  kind  of 
winged  screw,  but  what  had  I  to  do  with  a  screw,  or 
what  had  a  screw  to  do  with  me?  Were  not  my 
hundred  and  twenty  horses — those  fierce  steeds  of  fire 

37 


Champion 

I  carried  in  my  breast — strong  enough  and  brave 
enough  to  help  me  through  any  ordeal,  without  the 
aid  of  an  irrelevant  thing  like  that?  I  did  not  ap- 
prove of  the  mysterious  screw,  which  worried  me  like 
a  hidden  pin ;  but  I  loved  my  horses,  my  hundred  and 
twenty  horses,  so  much  more  alert  and  reliable  than 
the  cumbersome  quadrupeds  I  could  hear  trotting  heav- 
ily past  the  window  of  the  workshop.  But  then,  how 
could  one  expect  a  creature  which  exists-  by  chewing 
hay  to  equal  in  brilliant  achievements  a  being  that  in- 
hales fiery  petrol  as  the  very  breath  of  life? 

The  day  I  heard  Hugh  say  I  was  finished  and  ready 
for  my  first  trial,  I  was  thinking  hard  about  that 
strange  screw  when  my  master  had  gone  out  to  dine. 

Since  I  had  been  got  into  my  body  and  had  my 
wheels  on  I  was  never  left  alone,  night  or  day.  When 
Hugh  went  out,  Arnaud  stayed,  when  Arnaud  was 
off  duty,  Hugh  was  by  my  side.  Even  at  night  one 
of  the  two  slept  in  the  workshop,  and  somehow  I  felt 
in  my  chassis  that  these  extra  precautions  had  a  con- 
nection with  that  everlasting  screw.  Now  that  I  had 
had  time  to  get  used  to  all  my  other  parts,  and  the 
novelty  was  wearing  off,  I  had  nothing  particular  to 
think  of  except  my  coming  trials  and — the  screw. 
What  was  it  for?  Why  did  they  speak  of  it  below 
their  breath  ?  Why  did  they  have  the  air  of  consider- 
ing it  more  than  anything  else?  Though  it  was  part 

38 


Champion 

of  myself,  I  was  growing  almost  jealous  of  the  thing. 
I  suppose  I  felt  rather  as  a  girl  might  feel  if  she 
wanted  her  lover  to  admire  her  eyes,  or  her  hair,  and 
he  forgot  them  in  staring  at  one  of  her  finger-nails, 
which  he  persisted  in  considering  unique. 

Hugh  had  gone  to  his  dinner,  as  I  said,  and  was 
going  to  have  a  sleep  after  a  long  day  of  hard  work. 
Then,  at  ten  o'clock,  he  intended  to  come  back  and 
take  me  out  for  my  "first  spin."  He  would  be  fresh 
after  a  little  rest,  he  told  Arnaud,  and  "fit  to  drive 
the  Champion  as  a  champion  should  be  driven."  Mean- 
while Jean,  who  had  been  off  during  the  day  from 
twelve  to  four,  was  to  keep  guard  over  me — I  could 
guess  why,  since  I'd  heard  that  conversation  between 
Hugh  and  Sheila — eat  his  dinner  in  my  society,  and 
not  leave  me  until  his  master  returned. 

Whenever  Jean  was  off  duty,  and  Hugh  and  I  alone 
together,  he  always  talked  to  me,  and  said  things  so 
good  to  hear  that  they  nearly  gave  me  a  rush  of  petrol 
to  the  cylinders.  But  Arnaud  never  had  a  word  for 
me,  unless,  perhaps,  it  was  a  cross  one,  if  inadvert- 
ently I  gave  him  trouble.  I  believe  that  he  sincerely 
admired  and  was  proud  of  me,  for  he  was  the  kind 
of  man  to  value  anything  he  worked  upon  himself; 
and,  of  course,  though  I  was  due  to  my  Master's 
genius,  I  owed  something — a  good  deal,  according  to 
his  idea — to  Jean  Arnaud,  as  well. 

39 


Champion 

To-night,  as  the  moments  dragged  on,  he  grew  mori 
and  more  restless.  I  think  there  must  have  been  some- 
thing electrical  in  the  air,  and  every  wire  in  me  re- 
sponded to  it;  but  perhaps  it  was  partly  the  thought  of 
going  out  into  the  world  for  the  first  time,  of  showing 
Hugh  what  I  could  do  for  him,  that  affected  me.  In 
any  case,  I  was  in  no  mood  to  be  jarred  upon  by  Ar- 
naud's  fretful  exclamations,  which  mostly  shaped 
themselves  into  grumblings  against  me,  or  even  against 
our  Master. 

"Why  couldn't  he  have  chosen  another  night  ?"  Jean 
growled  to  himself,  as  he  ate  something  out  of  a  red 
napkin  which  contained  his  dinner.  "To-morrow 
night — any  night  but  this  one  night  when  she  had 
asked  me  to  be  with  her?  Supper  with  her! — and  to 
have  missed  it — a  chance  I  would  give  a  year's  pay 
for.  Nothing  would  suit  him  but  it  must  be  to-night. 
Serve  him  right  for  his  selfishness  if  the  car  goes 
wrong!" 

At  this,  no  air-cooling  contrivance  on  earth  could 
have  kept  my  cylinders  from  getting  hot  if  my  engine 
had  been  working.  Why,  my  very  oil  would  have 
boiled  to  hear  him  talking  like  that  about  Hugh,  our 
Master,  his  benefactor.  As  it  was,  I  grew  colder 
with  rage,  and  more  rigid. 

As  he  ate,  Arnaud  was  walking  about  the  workshop 
in  his  nervous  way,  eating  sandwiches,  and  even  dar- 

40 


Champion 

ing  to  drop  crumbs  on  my  body.  Suddenly  he  began 
to  gird  at  me.  "You !"  he  exclaimed  furiously.  "Why 
should  I  be  sacrificed  for  you?  It  is  a  madness  that 
monsieur  will  have  you  watched  and  chaperoned  as  if 
you  were  a  beautiful  young  lady  every  man  was  want- 
ing to  kidnap.  All  the  world  is  not  thinking  of  you. 
Nobody  would  break  in  and  steal  your  secrets  if  I  were 
to  go  away  for  an  hour — the  hour  that  he  spends  in 
comfortable  sleep.  Yet  for  you  I  must  give  up  a  joy 
greater  than  any  I  have  ever  known — a  joy  that  will 
never  come  to  me  again,  because  I  have  appeared  to 
slight  it.  An  invitation  from  the  incomparable  'Toi- 
nette — and  I  have  been  forced  to  refuse  it — for  you." 

With  that  he  gave  me  a  kick  on  one  of  my  driving- 
wheels,  as  an  angry  groom  might  kick  a  horse  on  the 
ankle,  and  I  wished  that  I  were  a  horse  that  I  could 
have  paid  him  back  with  a  bite.  I  did  manage  to 
spill  a  drop  of  lubricating-oil  onto  him,  but  that  was 
nothing  to  what  I  should  have  liked  to  do. 

As  if  this  exhibition  of  temper  had  relieved  his  feel- 
ings, or  as  if  the  name  of  'Toinette  had  put  the  thought 
of  his  tiresome  chanson  into  his  head,  he  began  to  sing, 
"La  belle  'Toinette,  ma  belle  'Toinette!"  and  while  he 
was  humming  and  brushing  crumbs  off  his  jacket, 
there  came  a  light,  but  distinctly  audible,  tapping  at 
the  window. 


CHAPTER  III. 
/  See  'Toinette. 

At  the  same  moment,  a  clock  which  stood  on  a  shelf 
by  the  door  began  to  strike,  as  if  the  unexpected  sound 
had  startled  it.  It  struck  eight;  and  my  Master  was 
not  due  to  come  back  for  two  hours  yet.  Besides,  he 
never  rapped  at  the  window.  Nobody  had  ever  rapped 
at  the  window  since  I  had  been  I.  Who  could  be 
there,  wanting  to  come  in  at  this  hour? 

No  light  was  shining  out,  to  tell  passers-by  that  the 
room  was  occupied  at  a  time  when  other  workshops 
were  shut  up  and  deserted.  I  felt  a  curious,  excited 
vibration  running  through  my  whole  electrical  system, 
and  I  could  see  that  Arnaud  was  surprised,  too.  Evi- 
dently the  knocking  was  as  unexpected  to  him  as  to 
me;  and  somehow  I  was  glad  of  that. 

He  stopped  humming  and  stared  at  the  window, 
which  was  now  nothing  but  a  dim,  bluish  square  cut 
out  of  the  deep  brown  dusk  of  the  room;  for  we  never 
used  lights  at  night,  except  that  of  an  electric  lantern 
when  really  necessary.  My  Master  did  not  wish  to 
attract  attention  to  the  fact  that  any  one  remained  in 
the  workshop  so  long  after  hours;  and  as  it  was  still 
August,  the  twilight  lingered  late. 

43 


Champion 

For  a  few  seconds  Arnaud  did  not  move,  even  after 
the  tapping  came  again,  in  a  different  way.  I  won- 
dered if  some  little  vagabond  who  had  wandered  into 
the  narrow  side  street  was  amusing  himself  by  playing 
a  tune  on  our  window-panes;  but  presently  I  discov- 
ered that  the  air  the  unseen  fingers  were  rapping  out 
was  a  familiar  one:  "La  belle  Toinette."  And  then 
a  voice  began  to  sing  very  softly,  very  sweetly,  the 
French  words  I  had  so  often  heard  Arnaud  humming. 

He  seemed  to  fling  himself  across  the  room  in  one 
great  stride,  and  was  pushing  up  the  window,  which 
had  been  open  only  a  little  way  at  the  top,  to  let  in 
air.  "Mademoiselle  'Toinette!"  he  whispered  like  a 
man  in  a  dream. 

Somebody  laughed,  a  gay,  coquetting  laugh.  "You 
would  not  come  to  me;  voila,  I  have  come  to  you!" 
said  the  voice  that  had  sung  the  verse  of  "La  Belle 
Toinette." 

"It  is  too  good  to  be  true,"  said  Arnaud. 

"It  is  true  at  least  that  you  do  not  deserve  such  a 
good  thing,"  laughed  the  voice;  and  try  as  I  might,  I 
could  not  catch  even  a  sidewise  peep  at  the  speaker. 
"You  did  not  think  I  knew  where  you  spent  these  long 
days  of  work  you  told  me  of — no?  But  you  have  said 
the  name  of  the  street." 

"I — don't  remember  mentioning  it,"  stammered  Ar- 
naud, 

43 


Champion 

"What — you  forget  what  you  say  to  me?  That  is 
not  a  compliment !" 

"I  never  forget  what  you  say  to  me,"  he  hurriedly 
answered,  which  seemed  to  please  Mademoiselle  'Toi- 
nette. 

"That  is  better,"  she  exclaimed.  "And  now,  will 
you  not  open  your  door  and  come  round  to  let  me  in  ?" 

"Let  you  in  ?"  Arnaud  stammered  again.  "I — much 
as  I  should  love  to  do  that,  I  may  not.  I  am  under  a 
solemn  promise " 

"Pooh  for  your  solemn  promise!  What  is  that  to 
me?  If  you  do  not  at  once  invite  me  in  to  make  a  call 
upon  you,  I  shall  know  that  all  your  words  of  love  are 
worth  nothing.  In  one  all  little  half -hour,  I  shall  have 
to  go,  because  it  will  then  be  time  for  my  turn  at  the 
Tivoli.  My  brougham  is  waiting  for  me  just  round 
the  corner.  I  have  told  the  coachman  I  shall  not  come 
for  twenty-five  minutes.  Will  you  that  after  all  I  go 
back  to  him  now  instead?" 

"No — no.  I  beg  that  you  will  stay  and  let  me  talk 
to  you  here.  I  have  a  thousand  things  to  say,"  im- 
plored Arnaud,  so  desperately  that  I  began  to  feel  a 
little  sorry  for  him.  "I  have  to  tell  you  what  I  have 
already  partly  told  in  my  letter — my  answer  to  your 
dear  note — that  not  to  come  and  wait  for  you  and  take 
you  to  supper  to-night,  as  you  would  have  permitted, 

was  sad  as  death  to  me " 

44 


Champion 

"All  that  I  will  hear  when  you  have  let  me  in.  It 
is  not  comme  il  faut  that  I  should  be  kept  standing  in 
a  dark  alley,  below  your  window,  like  a  young  Span- 
ish lover  who  talks  to  a  sweetheart.  I  have  believed 
in  your  regret,  or  I  should  not  be  here;  but  in  a  mo- 
ment more  I  shall  cease  to  believe;  and  then  I  will 
never  speak  to  you  again.  It  is  for  you  to  choose." 

"Then  I  choose,  and  I  break  my  promise,  for  you!" 
cried  Arnaud.  "After  all,  it  is  not  as  if  Monsieur 
Cameron,  my  employer,  never  broke  the  rule  he  has 
made  for  us  both.  A  fortnight  ago  he  brought  in  a 
young  lady.  I  found  her  here  in  the  workshop  when 
I  came  back  from  my  dejeuner.  Also,  the  door  was 
partly  open,  and  the  motor  uncovered.  It  was  as  if  he 
had  forgotten  himself.  Now,  he  has  no  longer  a  right 
to  blame  me,  if  I,  too,  am  a  little  weak  where  a  beauti- 
ful woman  is  concerned.  Mademoiselle,  it  will  save 
time,  and  be  a  great  happiness  to  me,  if  you  permit 
that  I  lift  you  in  at  the  window." 

She  laughed,  and  said,  with  a  mock  English  accent : 
"All  right,  I  permit."  And  in  another  moment  she  was 
in  the  room  in  front  of  my  bonnet.  Also,  she  was  in 
Arnaud's  arms,  and  he  was  kissing  her.  He  must  have 
thought  that  I  was  blind  and  deaf. 

I  could  not  see  the  visitor  very  distinctly  at  first, 
but  she  insisted  that  it  was  too  triste  in  the  dusk,  and 
that  "Monsieur  Jean  must  light  something." 

45 


Champion 

He  was  too  intoxicated  with  joy  now  to  object  to 
any  wish  of  hers,  it  seemed,  and  without  a  word  he 
turned  on  the  light  which  belonged  to  my  Master,  a 
big  electric  lantern.  It  ate  up  the  darkness,  and  in  a 
pale,  glimmering  circle,  like  a  picture  framed  in  black, 
I  saw  Mademoiselle  'Toinette  standing. 

She  was  a  bewitching  creature.  Arnaud  had  some 
excuse  for  his  madness,  perhaps. 

Her  head  was  bare,  and  a  long,  orange-colored 
cloak,  tied  loosely  with  ribbons  at  the  throat,  was 
thrown  back,  and  hung  in  straight  folds  behind  her 
lithe  French  figure,  in  its  short,  green-and-silver 
sequin-covered  dress.  There  was  a  wreath  of  glit- 
tering green  and  silver  leaves  on  her  elaborately  waved, 
copper-bright  hair ;  a  diamond  pendant  rising  and  fall- 
ing on  her  white  neck;  a  snake  of  diamonds  with 
emerald  eyes  clasping  her  tiny  waist;  her  green  silk 
stockings  were  embroidered  over  the  instep  with  little 
brilliants;  and  her  silver  slippers  had  great  flashing 
buckles.  With  all  this  sparkle  and  dazzle,  the  fire  of 
her  big  black  eyes  that  caught  the  light,  and  the  scarlet 
of  her  lips  that  parted  over  little  milk-white  teeth,  Ar- 
naud's  visitor  was  a  bewildering  vision.  I  was  not  sur- 
prised to  see  him  fling  himself  on  his  knees  and  kiss 
the  hem  of  the  shimmering  green  dress. 

"To  think  that  you  should  have  come  to  me!"  he 
faltered;  and  Mademoiselle  patted  his  hair  .with  a 

46 


MADEMOISELLE   PATTED   HIS   HAIR." 


(/.  46.) 


Champion 

white  hand  flashing  with  rings.  She  was  wonderful, 
but,  somehow,  she  did  not  seem  fresh  and  sweet,  or 
real,  like  Sheila.  She  looked  older  and  harder,  and 
you  would  not  have  cared  to  have  her  near  if  your 
steering-gear  had  gone  wrong,  or  you  had  smashed  an 
axle,  or  anything  that  made  you  feel  sick  and  sad  all 
over.  Arnaud  couldn't  see  her  face  as  she  patted  his 
head,  but  I  could,  and  it  had  an  expression  as  if  she 
were  making  fun  of  him  in  her  heart,  instead  of  loving 
him,  as  he  was  conceited  enough  to  believe. 

"I  have  come,"  she  said  softly,  "because  I  wanted 
to  see  you,  and  because  I  wanted  to  see  this  wonderful 
work  of  yours,  which  makes  me  jealous.  Oh,  yes, 
I  am  jealous.  You  think  more  of  your  work  than  you 
do  of  me.  You  would  sacrifice  me  for  it." 

"Never!"  cried  Arnaud,  still  on  his  knees,  adoring. 
"I  like  the  work,  because  I  can  do  it  well.  One  al- 
ways likes  what  one  does  well.  And  I  am  faithful  to 
it  because  of  what  it  can  by  and  by  do  for  me.  When 
I  and  Monsieur  Cameron  win  the  race  I  told  you  of,  I 
shall  L~  rich.  I  can  give  you  presents,  then,  worth 
having;  not  the  paltry  things  which,  until  now,  have 
been  all  I  could  afford  to  offer." 

"I  do  not  love  you  for  the  presents  you  have  sent," 
said  'Toinette,  with  a  ring  of  truth  in  her  voice.  Then 
why  did  she  love  him  ?  I  was  sure  it  was  not  for  him- 
self. 

47 


Champion 

"Sweet,  soft  angel,"  murmured  Arnaud,  snatching 
both  her  hands.  If  I  had  been  working  I  should  cer- 
tainly have  snorted.  She  was  about  as  sweet  and  soft, 
and  as  much  like  an  angel,  as  I  was. 

"I  have  loved  the  presents  because  you  gave  them," 
she  went  on.  "This  dear  emerald  ring — my  favorite 
stone.  See,  I  am  wearing  it  to-night.  This  bracelet 
with  the  drop  pearl.  It  was  the  second  thing  you  sent 
me.  I  have  still  the  note  that  came  with  it — written 
before  we  knew  each  other — before  you  dreamed  of 
knowing  me,  I  believe — you  were  so  respectful.  'From 
a  compatriot  and  a  humble  admirer  of  the  fairest  trans- 
planted flower  of  France.'  Those  were  your  very 
words.  Do  I  not  remember  well?" 

"You  make  me  die  of  happiness,"  mumbled  Arnaud. 

"Oh,  you  must  not  die.  You  must  live  to  win  your 
great  race,  about  which  you  have  roused  me  to  excite- 
ment. And  this  big,  gray  thing,  with  the  long,  strange 
body — is  this  the  marvel,  the  great  invention  you  and 
your  Monsieur  Cameron  have  made  together?" 

He  and  Monsieur  Cameron  together,  indeed!  I 
could  have  burst  a  cylinder.  As  if  Arnaud  had  had 
anything  to  do  with  me,  except  to  work  under  our 
Master's  instructions! 

"Yes,  this  is  our  marvel,"  he  replied,  unctuously 
accepting  the  credit.  He  jumped  up,  now,  and  would 
have  put  his  arm  round  that  tiny  waist  of  mademoi- 

48 


Champion 


selle's,  but  she  pushed  him  away  gently  with  a  coquet- 
tish little  laugh. 

"Not  now,"  she  said.  "I  wish  to  be  shown  the  won- 
derful thing  which  is  to  bring  you  fortune.  Perhaps, 
when  you  are  rich,  I  shall  say  'Yes'  to  you,  is  it  not?" 

"You  would — you  would  consent?"  he  stammered. 
"Let  us  talk  of  the  future,  then." 

"No.  Of  your  automobile  that  is  to  make  the  future 
— our  future." 

Arnaud  looked  pale  and  uncomfortable.  Evidently 
he  did  not  like  the  turn  the  conversation  was  taking; 
he  wished  to  defend  himself  and  me  from  her  wilful 
curiosity,  but  I  knew  that  he  would  yield.  I  knew  that 
she  would  be  too  strong  for  him — and  she  was.  After 
a  minute  or  two  of  clumsy  fencing,  he  lost  his  head 
completely.  I  believe  it  was  a  kiss  which  finished  him, 
but  whatever  it  was,  it  made  him  abject.  He  forgot 
all  his  obligations — he  was  hers,  body  and  soul;  the 
mean  little  soul  of  him! 

He  snatched  off  my  bonnet,  and  brazenly  exposed 
my  inner  workings  to  the  lady.  But  his  fingers  were 
cold  and  trembling  as  he  grasped  the  starting-handle. 
Nervously  he  let  it  drop,  without  turning. 

"After  the  work  she  did  this  morning,  she  ought  to 
start  on  the  switch,"  he  said.  "The  compression's  per- 
fect, and  there's  sure  to  be  enough  in  one  cylinder  or 
the  other." 

49 


Champion 


With  this,  he  turned  on  the  switch,  Mademoiselle 
eying  me  in  such  a  queer,  eager  way  that  it  sud- 
denly struck  me  she  knew  a  good  deal  more  about  au- 
tomobile-kind than  she  was  pretending  to  know.  A 
queer  idea  began  to  mix  with  my  electricity;  and  if  I 
could,  I  would  have  protected  my  master's  interests  by 
refusing  to  answer.  But  I  was  too  well  made  for  that ; 
and  the  best  I  could  do  was  to  hastily  suck  into  my 
carbureter  a  few  of  the  hardest  crumbs  which  Ar- 
naud  had  carelessly  dropped  onto  me  a  little  while 
ago.  I  managed  to  sniff  them  into  such  a  position 
that  they  clogged  the  needle-valve,  which  was  exactly 
what  I  wanted,  as  it  gave  me  a  chance  of  just  explo- 
ding once  or  twice  and  then  coming  to  a  stop  for  lack 
of  petrol.  Naturally  I  made  matters  as  bad  as  I  could 
by  drawing  in  unnecessary  air  and  gurgling  loudly. 

"Oh,  but  something  is  wrong,"  cried  Mademoiselle 
innocently.  "It  will  not  go." 

"It  will  go  beautifully,"  said  Arnaud,  anxious  to 
justify  his  reputation  as  an  inventor  of  a  marvel,  and 
turning  away  at  the  starting-handle  with  silent  fury. 

"Then  explain  it,  if  you  please,"  insisted  'Toinette, 
looking  at  me,  with  her  hand  on  his  shoulder.  "I 
know  I  am  stupid  about  automobiles,  for  the  language 
of  them  is  as  Greek  to  my  ears.  Still,  I  shall  be  flat- 
tered if  you  make  me  think  myself  clever  enough  to 
understand." 

50 


Champion 

At  least,  I  began  to  think  myself  clever  enough  to 
understand  her.  I  had  not  been  given  my  perfect 
mechanism  for  nothing;  and  it  flashed  into  my  cylin- 
ders that  this  enticing  young  woman  was  playing  a 
deep  game  with  Jean  Arnaud.  What  might  be  her 
object  I  could  not  tell  yet,  but  an  ominous  weight  of 
dread  pressed  upon  my  wires. 

Bewitched,  Arnaud  poured  out  the  most  intimate  de- 
tails of  my  construction,  while  she  listened,  trying  to 
veil  her  sharp  interest  behind  a  bewildered  smile.  "One 
of  our  secrets  is  this  new  device  for  cooling  by  air," 
he  went  on  fatuously.  "It's  been  tried  many  times, 
but  never  with  complete  success.  This  time  there  is 
no  fear  of  failure.  All  is  perfect — volumes  of  air 
pumped  with  scientific  precision  on  to  the  cylinders  ex- 
actly where  needed.  No  weight  of  water  to  carry — a 
dozen  complications  saved.  No  pipes  to  get  loose, 
no  tanks  to  leak,  no  pump  to  go  wrong,  no  radiator. 
And  the  changes  of  speed  are  made  wth  compressed 
air,  too." 

While  he  talked,  Arnaud  never  stopped  twisting  my 
starting-handle,  but  do  what  he  would,  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  not  to  start.  Of  course,  I  might  easily  have 
flooded  the  carbureter,  and  expelled  the  crumbs,  but 
I  had  no  intentions  of  relenting. 

"Sale  bete!"  grumbled  Arnaud  under  his  breath. 
"I've  never  seen  her  like  this  before.  But  it  is  always 


Champion 

so,  if  you  wish  to  show  off  with  an  automobile."  He 
searched  about  for  the  cause  of  my  stubbornness,  but 
did  not  think  of  looking  at  the  carbureter. 

"What  is  this  odd  thing  in  front?"  asked  Mademoi- 
selle, pointing  to  my  strange  screw.  My  valves  quiv- 
ered at  this,  but  all  the  same,  I  hoped  Arnaud  would 
tell  her  nothing.  I  wanted  to  know  the  mystery  my- 
self, but  I  did  not  want  her  to  know  it. 

"Everything  I  have  told  you  is  a  secret,"  replied 
Jean,  "but  this  is  the  profoundest  secret  of  all.  You 
will  swear  never  to  repeat  a  word  of  what  I  say  to  you 
now?" 

"But  whom  should  I  tell,  great  stupid?"  laughed 
the  pretty  lady  of  the  sequins.  "And  by  the  time  I 
leave  you,  do  you  suppose  I  shall  remember  two  con- 
secutive words  well  enough  to  make  sense  of  them? 
Still,  I  like  to  hear  you  speak  of  these  things — and  to 
watch  your  face  as  you  talk.  You  have  such  a  hand- 
some, clever  face,  my  Jean." 

This  last  was  a  bigger  fib  than  the  rest,  but  Ar- 
naud swallowed  it  all  and  was  delighted.  He  was 
so  enmeshed  by  her  now  that  he  threw  his  last  rag 
of  prudence  under  foot  for  her  to  trample  with  her 
little  high  heels.  "This  is  a  kind  of  aerial  screw- 
propeller,"  he  went  on,  "like  the  screw-propeller  of  a 
ship,  adapted  to  an  automobile.  But  instead  of  pro- 
pelling, like  an  ordinary  screw,  it  sucks,  like  a  fan." 

52 


Champion 

'Toinette  clapped  her  hands,  as  he  paused.  "Oh,  do 
show  me  how  it  works!"  she  exclaimed.  "That  is 
a  most  wonderful  idea  of  yours.  I  must  see  it  going, 
so  that  I  can  be  proud  of  you." 

Again  he  tried  to  start  me,  but  I  would  have  burnt 
up  where  I  stood  rather  than  give  a  single  spark.  Of 
course,  since  I  chose  to  behave  like  a  dead  thing,  Ar- 
naud  could  not  show  his  'Toinette  how  my  screw 
worked.  As  he  flew  at  my  starting-handle  for  the 
fifteenth  time,  the  clock  by  the  door  struck  three, 
which  meant  a  quarter  to  nine,  and  'Toinette  gave 
a  startled  cry.  "Oh,  I  had  forgotten!"  she  said.  "I 
must  go  instantly.  I  cannot  afford  to  be  late  for  my 
turn.  And  when  I  have  sung  at  the  Tivoli,  there  is 
only  just  time — if  I  take  an  encore — to  rush  into 
my  brougham  and  drive  to  the  Palace.  I  must  say 
au  revoir,  but  it  shall  be  only  that.  Write  me  what 
is  the  next  night  that  your  Monsieur  Cameron  will 
be  away  about  this  hour,  and  I  will  come  to  you  here 
again — dressed  to  go  on  to  the  stage,  as  now,  so  that 
I  shall  have  all  the  moments,  up  to  the  last,  with  you. 
When  I  come  next  time,  perhaps  your  'marvel'  will 
be  in  a  better  humor;  and  perhaps,  too,  I  shall  have 
a  thing  to  tell  you — a  great  thing  that  will  make  your 
heart  beat." 

"A  thing  about  you?"  asked  Jean. 

"Yes,  about  me — and  about  you;  about  us  both 

53 


Champion 

together.  A  thing  that  may  mean  much,  oh,  much 
money.  Enough  for  you  to  do  what  you  like." 

"Can't  you  tell  me  now?"  Arnaud  begged  her. 

"No,  there  is  no  time.  Besides,  I  must  see  some 
one  else  first,  before  I  dare  speak.  Oh,  I  shall  be 
late.  Can  you  open  the  window  again,  get  out,  and 
then  help  me?  That  would  be  my  quickest  way. 
No,  no,  you  must  not  kiss  me  again.  You  will  make 
me  miss  my  turn." 

Arnaud  switched  off  the  light,  and  a  moment  later 
she  was  gone,  leaving  behind  a  heavy  perfume  not 
half  so  nice,  in  my  opinion,  as  that  of  my  own  honest, 
life-giving  petrol. 


54 


CHAPTER  IV. 

/  See  tbe  World  and  Find  Myself. 

I  would  have  sacrificed  my  run  in  the  open,  and 
put  off  my  trial  indefinitely,  if  by  such  self-abnegation 
I  could  but  have  gained  the  power  of  telling  my 
Master  what  had  happened  in  his  absence.  It  was 
enough  to  demagnetize  my  coil  that  I  should  be  ob- 
liged to  stand  there  mute  and  inexpressive  when  Hugh 
came  back,  all  unsuspecting  and  full  of  confidence  in 
Arnaud. 

That  mean,  love-sick  traitor  had  covered  me  up 
again,  thus  making  of  me  a  dumb  conspirator  when 
he  answered  his  Master's  question  by  saying  that 
everything  was  right,  as  usual.  Yes,  he  had  eaten 
his  dinner  in  the  workshop;  afterward  he  had  slept 
a  little;  everything  had  been  quiet;  the  car  was  ready 
for  the  test. 

"How  about  the  crumb  in  my  carbureter?" 
I  thought.  But  it  would  not  have  helped  to  expose 
Arnaud's  perfidy  if  I  had  continued  obstinate  when 
my  Master  took  me  in  hand ;  and  the  moment  he  tried 
to  start  me,  I  dislodged  the  tiny  obstacle  with  an 
effort  which  flooded  it  out  with  petrol.  I  saw  Jean 
glare  at  me  viciously  when  I  did  for  Hugh  what  I 

55 


Champion 

had  refused  to  do  for  him,  and  I  contrived  to  get 
a  spark  of  satisfaction  out  of  his  discomfiture  and 
surprise. 

If  it  had  not  been  for  the  disturbing  knowledge 
which  I  was  unable  to  impart  to  my  Master,  I  should 
have  been  wildly  happy  as  Hugh  started  me  for  my 
first  flight  into  the  unknown  world. 

Arnaud  opened  the  workshop  doors  and  the  still 
larger  doors  of  the  big  room  outside.  Hugh  slowly 
drove  me  through,  just  as  the  clock  struck  ten,  and 
as  Arnaud  hastily  locked  up  the  place  and  sprang  to 
his  seat,  we  swept  out  into  a  wide,  deserted  thorough- 
fare. 

My  only  glimpses  of  the  world  beyond  our  work- 
shop had  been  through  the  side  window  which  was 
always  kept  pulled  well  down  at  the  top.  It  was  so 
high  that  there  was  no  danger  of  my  being  spied  upon ; 
but  I  could  see  a  brick  wall,  and  a  patch  of  moon- 
shine or  sunlight  occasionally  lay  upon  it,  which  some- 
how made  me  feel  happy  and  hopeful,  as  if  it  were 
a  shining  prophesy  of  beautiful  things  to  come.  From 
this  brick  wall,  and  its  shifting  patch  of  gold  or  silver 
light;  from  the  sound  of  wheels  and  horses'  hoofs  in 
the  streets;  from  the  men  and  motors  that  inhabited 
the  big  outer  workshop,  I  had  formed  my  ideas  of 
the  world;  but  I  had  imagined  nothing  half  so  good 
as  the  glorious  reality  into  which  I  plunged  like  a  fish 

56 


Champion 

into  a  crystal  wave,  as  my  Master  guided  me  into  the 
waiting  light. 

At  first  I  was  entirely  preoccupied  with  the  joyous 
new  excitement  of  turning  my  wheels,  and  finding 
that  I  advanced  faster,  faster,  faster,  always  with 
exquisite  smoothness.  Then  followed  an  instant  of 
shamed  confusion  when  I  realized  that  I  was  emitting 
a  cloud  of  disagreeable-smelling  smoke  through  my 
silencer.  This  came  because  Arnaud  had  given  me 
too  much  oil;  and  disgusted  with  myself  as  I  was,  I 
thought  the  best  thing  I  could  do  was  to  burn  it  up 
and  get  rid  of  the  horrid  stuff  as  quickly  as  possible. 

Soon,  it  was  gone;  then,  cheered  and  controlled  by 
the  firm  touch  of  the  Master  I  loved  and  who  loved 
me,  I  began  to  "find  myself"  and  the  wonders  of  the 
world  in  which  I  had  been  set  free.  Oh,  the  stars, 
and  the  wind,  and  the  good  smell  of  the  night!  I 
sang  with  joy  of  life  and  power,  and  my  song  was 
strong  and  rhythmical  as  a  mighty  poem.  It  was  the 
full  expression  of  my  being,  and  I  gloried  in  the  sound 
of  it. 

Just  at  first,  as  I  rolled  round  corner  after  corner 
of  quiet  streets — before  we  shot  out  into  open  country 
with  the  great  gloaming  bell  of  the  sky  overhead — I 
had  a  slight,  a  very  slight  stiffness  of  the  joints,  in 
bounding  forward.  But  so  minute  had  been  the  care 
lavished  on  every  part  of  me,  that  with  each  yard  I 

57 


Champion 


ran,  the  beneficent  oil  was  able  to  penetrate  my  pores, 
soothing  all  aches,  giving  a  magnificent  suppleness 
and  sense  of  well-being. 

"Now,  now,"  I  said  to  myself,  "I  have  a  chance  to 
show  him  something  of  what  I  feel,  my  gratitude  and 
loyalty.  Let  me  make  him  see  that  he  has  not  labored 
in  vain." 

So  light  was  my  Master's  touch  on  the  steering- 
wheel  that  it  seemed  to  testify  his  confidence  in  my 
intelligence.  Our  relation  was  so  intimate  that  I 
felt  we  were  talking  to  each  other,  as  I  rushed  on, 
obedient  to  his  hand.  Together  we  were  working  now, 
each  with  an  implicit  belief  in  the  other. 

My  wheels  were  behaving  splendidly.  They  were 
so  springy  that,  as  Hugh  had  prophesied,  for  me  road 
inequalities  did  not  exist.  There  had  been  rain  during 
the  day — I  had  heard  it  coming  down — and  the  asphalt 
over  which  we  passed  on  our  way  out  to  the  country 
was  as  buttery  as  one  of  Arnaud's  favorite  sandwiches. 
I  was  afraid  of  slipping  when  my  wheels  first  slid  on 
to  this  greasy  surface,  and  so  disappointing  my  Mas- 
ter; but  I  had  reckoned  without  him.  He  had  thought 
of  all  that  long  before  I  was  born,  and  had  accordingly 
fitted  me  with  a  neat  appliance  by  which  I  could  defy 
slippery  roads.  I  had  small  rollers  with  corrugated 
surfaces,  that  ran  on  the  ground  inside,  and  parallel 
to,  my  wheels.  They  were  so  arranged  that,  if  I 

53 


Champion 

slipped  even  a  couple  of  inches,  the  rollers,  tilted 
slightly,  gently  scratched  the  road  with  their  tiny 
corrugations,  and  at  the  same  time  pushed  a  wedge 
into  a  groove  bolted  on  to  the  inner  side  of  my  wheels. 
When  I  began  to  be  sure  of  my  own  trustworthiness, 
it  was  almost  a  pleasure  to  feel  the  inclination  to  slip 
and  then  right  myself  on  the  instant. 

Soon  we  left  the  labyrinth  of  streets  behind,  and 
flew  out  upon  a  broad  highroad.  How  glorious  it 
was  to  be  given  my  head,  and  allowed  to  rush  on,  on, 
straight  on,  without  being  pulled  in  for  silly  little 
turnings,  just  as  I  was  getting  into  the  spirit  of  the 
thing!  I  had  that  delightful  sense  of  fitness  which  I 
now  know  springs  from  youth,  from  a  sound  consti- 
tution, and  a  faultless  working  together  of  all  organs 
and  functions.  I  knew  that,  of  my  kind,  I  was  per- 
fection, and  worthy  of  the  Master  who  had  made  me. 

He  let  me  take  him  out  into  the  country  on  my  top 
speed.  So  sensitively  did  I  govern  myself,  under  his 
hand,  that  I  could  change  from  four  hundred  to 
twelve  hundred  revolutions  in  a  fraction  of  a  minute. 
But  though  this  discovery  thrilled  me,  still  I  was  very 
far  from  realizing  all  my  capabilities. 

A  lonely  stretch  of  road  glimmered  before  us  under 
the  high,  white  stars.  Suddenly,  Hugh  gave  me  all 
the  gas  I  could  take,  and  pressed  his  foot  on  my  ac- 
celerator. Whiff!  I  was  off  on  a  race  with  the  wind. 

59 


Champion 

I  felt  myself  a  thing  of  living  fire,  and,  pulsing  with 
life,  I  devoured  the  straight,  white  miles  as  if  they 
had  been  long  moonbeams. 

I  was  doing  my  utmost  now,  yet  there  was  no 
strain,  and  I  was  deliciously  sure  that  I  could  keep 
up  the  same  wild  pace  for  hours  on  end  if  my  Master 
would  consent,  and  if  there  were  world  enough.  The 
one  impediment  of  which  I  was  conscious  was  the 
fierce  opposing  pressure  on  my  bonnet  of  the  air  that 
with  all  my  strength  I  forced  asunder  as  I  ran,  as 
a  swimmer  tears  apart  the  water  with  his  hands. 

I  liked  the  sense  of  power  which  this  act  gave,  for 
it  was  I  who  conquered,  and  I  liked  the  sound  of  the 
baffled  wind  as  I  rushed  through ;  still,  I  grudged  being 
held  back  ever  so  little,  as  I  could  not  deny  that  I  was 
held  back.  "If  it  were  not  for  that  wind,"  I  thought, 
as  I  hurled  myself  ahead,  "I  suppose  I  could  go  al- 
most twice  as  fast.  How  would  that  feel,  I  wonder?" 

Hardly  had  the  question  been  sparked  in  and  out 
of  my  cylinders  when  a  marvelous  thing  happened, 
and — the  great  mystery  of  my  being  was  solved. 

With  a  touch  of  his  foot  upon  a  pedal,  Hugh  di- 
verted some  of  my  energy  from  the  main-shaft,  and 
I  grew  instantly  conscious  that  it  had  been  put  to  turn- 
ing the  winged  screw  which  had  caused  me  so  many 
restless  hours.  Quick  as  light,  it  began  to  revolve  at 

terrific  speed.     All  pressure  of  air  was  gone.     The 

60 


Champion 

wind,  instead  of  being  my  enemy,  had  become  my 
friend — my  slave.  My  speed  doubled.  I  seemed  to 
be  racing  down  the  vortex  of  a  whirlwind,  and  keep- 
ing pace  with  it. 


All  too  brief  was  that  flight  in  ecstasy.  The  lights 
of  a  ridiculous  village  lay  ahead.  My  Master  with- 
drew my  energy  from  the  propeller,  which  for  a  few 
happy  moments  had  made  me  a  winged  thing.  I 
ceased  to  suck  in  drafts  of  sparkling  air  with  the 
fan.  The  governor  tranquilized  me  in  spite  of  my- 
self; reluctantly  I  simmered  down  into  a  walking  pace, 
thus  passing  through  a  sleeping  street  and  out  once 
more  into  blessed  freedom. 

No  longer  was  I  jealous  of  the  screw.  To  under- 
stand what  it  could  do  for  me  was  to  value  it  beyond 
all  my  other  parts  put  together,  and  I  was  more  than 
ever  thankful  that  I  had  swallowed  one  of  Arnaud's 
crumbs  to  prevent  'Toinette  from  learning  the  great 
secret.  As  it  was,  she  knew  far  too  much  about  me, 
had  observed  too  much  with  her  flashing  black  eyes, 
the  while  she  beguiled  Arnaud.  But  this  one  feature 
of  mine  in  which  I  knew — judging  from  all  my  Master 
and  Jean  had  said — that  I  was  so  far  superior  to  any 
other  created  motor,  remained  a  mysterious  feature 

for  the  Frenchwoman.     I   congratulated  Hugh  and 

61 


Champion 

myself  upon  this  fact  as  again  I  gathered  speed  and 
threw  myself  forward.  For  the  second  time,  as  all 
lights,  save  the  stars,  vanished  in  our  trail,  that  mag- 
ical propeller  of  mine  came  into  action,  and  my  course 
was  like  the  course  of  a  comet  down  the  Milky  Way. 
Then,  at  last,  we  stopped. 

My  Master  sprang  from  his  seat  with  a  sigh  of  in- 
finite satisfaction,  as  refreshing  to  me  as  a  new  supply 
of  petrol.  Arnaud  also  scrambled  off  my  back.  We 
three  were  alone  in  the  still  country,  and  the  smell 
of  the  earth  was  passing  sweet.  Hugh  laughed  softly, 
and  patted  me  as  he  might  pat  a  favorite  animal.  He 
felt  me  all  over,  too,  to  see  if  I  were  heated;  but 
thanks  to  the  currents  of  cool  air  with  which  I  had 
douched  my  cylinders,  I  was  in  fine  condition.  "Hur- 
rah, she's  only  hand-warm!"  my  master  exclaimed, 
as  he  took  an  electric  torch  and  examined  every  part 
of  me,  peering  into  my  gear-box,  and*  inspecting  even 
my  clutch — a  liberty  which  I  should  have  resented 
from  any  one  else. 

"Does  us  proud,  doesn't  she,  Arnaud?"  he  laughed, 
in  his  modest  way,  which  gave  the  Frenchman  a  pres- 
ent of  far  more  credit  than  he  deserved.  "Not  a  single 
part  has  failed.  This  test  is  even  more  of  a  triumph 
for  us  and  the  car  than  I  dared  hope.  I  wouldn't  let 
myself  count  on  absolute  perfection  in  the  first  trial, 

but  that's  what  we've  got,  eh?    By  Jove!  if  everything 

62 


Champion 


goes  like  this  on  the  day  of  the  race — as  I'm  sure  it 
will  now,  why  shouldn't  it — won't  we  make  the  whole 
automobile  world  sit  up?  It's  been  waiting  for  us. 
Now  it's  got  us.  And  I  think  we  may  be  pretty  cer- 
tain that  it  will  appreciate  us.  I  mean  that  Champion 
shall  be  the  goose  to  lay  golden  eggs  for  you,  Arnaud, 
as  well  as  for  me.  It's  right  that  you  should  have 
a  good  share  in  the  fortune  which  this  invention  will 
bring,  for  you've  been  as  faithful  as  you've  been  ef- 
ficient. And  if  I  hadn't  got  hold  of  a  man  I  could 
trust,  for  this  big  work  which  now  we've  finished  to- 
gether, it  might  just  as  well  never  have  been  begun." 

How  did  Arnaud  feel  as  he  listened  to  these  gen- 
erous praises  and  promises  which  would  have  made 
swell  with  joyful  gratitude  the  heart  of  a  man  who 
deserved  them? 

I  tried  with  all  my  might  to  open  an  exhaust-valve 
and  explode  into  the  air  a  reproach  to  him,  a  warning 
to  my  Master.  The  secret  which  I  could  not  commu- 
nicate so  rankled  and  burned  within  me,  that  I  almost 
choked  with  my  own  gas. 

"That's  the  one  drawback  to  being  an  automobile," 
I  said  gloomily  to  myself,  at  this  moment  which  ought 
to  have  been  one  bright  blaze  of  satisfaction.  "You 
can  be  the  king  of  cars,  as  I've  no  doubt  I  am,  since 
my  Master  thinks  so;  but  with  all  your  power,  you 
can't  save  your  best  friend  by  hissing  out  the  least 

63 


.Champion 

little  thing  you  know,  in  words  that  he  can  understand. 
I  dare  say,  if  I  make  any  automobile  friends  I  shall 
find  that  I  can  gabble  to  them  1,200  revolutions  to 
the  minute,  but  with  the  one  being  of  all  the  world  I 
would  give  my  crank-heads  to  talk  to,  I  must  remain 
mute  and  cold,  a  mere  machine." 

Arnaud  mumbled  something,  and  his  shamed  stam- 
mering gave  the  effect  of  genuine  emotion,  so  that 
my  Master  was  more  pleased  with  him  than  ever, 
and  as  a  reward  allowed  him  to  drive  half-way  home. 
I  would  have  played  several  pranks  which  occurred 
to  me,  as  a  protest,  if  I  hadn't  been  afraid  that  they 
would  have  been  misunderstood,  and  attributed  to 
incapacity.  But  I  ventured  to  slow  down  and  stretch 
myself  once  or  twice,  being  just  lazy  enough  to  please 
my  dear  Hugh  with  the  conviction  that  he  could  get 
more  out  of  me  than  the  Frenchman  could. 

"I  am  to  stop  to-night?"  Arnaud  asked,  when  I  had 
reluctantly  pointed  my  bonnet  into  the  workshop. 

"No,"  said  my  Master.  "It's  your  turn,  I  know, 
but — well,  I  suppose  it's  sentimental,  but  somehow, 
after  the  way  she  went  for  us — this  first  night,  you 
see — I  have  a  feeling  I'd  like  to  be  with  her  myself." 

"As  you  please,  sir,"  answered  Arnaud,  with  an 
exciting  ring  in  his  voice,  I  thought.  And  as  he  was 
hastily  wiping  my  body  free  from  dust,  I  caught  a 
word  or  two  which  he  muttered  at  his  task. 

64 


Champion 

"Perhaps  I  might  be  in  time  yet,"  I  fancied  I  heard 
him  say.  Was  he  planning  a  late  visit  to  his  Toi- 
nette  ? 

It  was  midnight,  or  close  upon  it;  but  maybe  he 
knew  where  she  was  supping,  and  meant  to  hurry  off 
and  try  to  join  her  after  he  had  made  himself  pre- 
sentable. 

I  hoped  that  he  would  be  too  late.  And  I  hoped 
with  every  fiber  of  my  steel  that,  if  he  were  capable 
of  drowning  conscience  and  doing  our  Master  fur- 
ther harm,  I  might  in  some  way  be  able  to  circumvent 
him. 


CHAPTER  V. 

/  See  the  Most  Beautiful  Girl  of  All. 

Several  days  passed,  during  which  nothing  hap- 
pened except  that  I  was  given  two  more  night  trials, 
and  acquitted  myself  to  the  satisfaction  of  all  con- 
cerned. 'Toinette  did  not  come  again,  nevertheless  I 
was  conscious  of  a  stir  of  uneasiness  under  my  bonnet. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  Arnaud  was  not  himself. 
There  was  little  or  no  work  to  do  upon  me  now,  yet 
he  or  else  my  Master  was  always  at  my  side;  and 
each  one,  during  his  watch,  amused  himself  by  potter- 
ing away  at  some  little  task  of  oiling,  tightening,  dust- 
ing, or  polishing.  Hugh  had  the  air  of  doing  this 
because  he  loved  it,  and  could  not  keep  his  hands  off 
me;  but  Arnaud  fussed  over  my  parts  in  sheer  nerv- 
ousness. He  often  fumed  about  like  a  mad  thing, 
as  if  he  dared  not  be  idle;  and  I  noticed  particularly 
that  he  no  longer  sang  or  even  hummed  at  his  work. 
Not  once  since  that  visit  of  the  beautiful  sequined 
lady  had  the  air  of  "La  Belle  'Toinette,"  or  any  other 
passed  his  lips.  Always  he  was  heavily  silent,  unless 
he  sighed ;  or,  if  alone  at  night  in  the  shut-up  building, 
burst  out  with  strange,  incoherent  exclamations,  as 

if  his  heart  overflowed  with  some  pent-up  anguish. 

66 


Champion 

When  he  and  my  Master  were  together  in  the  work- 
shop they  talked  of  the  race  in  which  I  was  to  be 
entered,  and  I  learned  that  it  would  be  the  most  unique 
as  well  as  the  greatest  event  in  the  history  of  motoring. 
Never  had  there  been  a  race  like  it,  and  it  was  meant 
to  make  a  sensation. 

A  young  American  millionaire  had  bought  a  news- 
paper in  London;  a  newspaper,  my  Master  explained 
to  Arnaud,  which  had  been  "down  on  its  luck," 
until  American  money  and  some  startling  American 
methods  had  revived  it.  Wilfred  Vandervoorst,  the 
proprietor  of  The  World  Day  by  Day,  had  an- 
nounced in  his  paper — and  worked  up  a  great  boom 
among  automobilists  by  doing  it — that  he  would  offer 
a  ten-thousand-pound  cup  for  a  motor-car  race  for 
the  newest  types  of  automobiles.  No  car  that  had  not 
some  distinctively  novel  feature  could  compete  for 
the  Vandervoorst  Surprise  Cup  Race;  and  the  word 
"Surprise"  had  a  special  signification  as  novel  as  the 
idea  which  it  embodied.  It  meant  that  the  competing 
cars  need  not  be  described  by  their  makers  or  owners 
before  the  race,  although  all  winners  in  the  contest 
must  submit  to  examination  by  experts  immediately 
after  the  race  was  over. 

These  matters  I  heard  so  constantly  discussed  be- 
tween Hugh  and  Arnaud  that  they  became  familiar 

to  me,  and  I  was  so  intensely  excited  about 

67 


Champion 

Master's  fate  and  mine  in  the  coming  ordeal  that  I 
was  delighted  when  one  day  Arnaud  brought  in  an 
illustrated  weekly  paper  with  a  large  full-page  pho- 
tograph of  Wilfred  Vandervoorst.  He  showed  it  to 
my  Master,  and  then,  tearing  out  the  leaf,  pinned  the 
picture  upon  the  wall  where  I  had  it  in  full  sight. 

The  face  in  the  photograph  was  so  handsome  and 
intelligent — though  not,  to  my  mind,  to  be  compared 
to  Hugh  Cameron's — that  I  augured  well  from  it. 
That  young  man's  method  might  be  sensational,  but 
it  was  because  he  was  original,  not  vulgar,  I  said  to 
myself.  And  I  thought  that  he  looked  exactly  the 
sort  of  person  who  would  be  quick  to  appreciate  my 
Master — and  me. 

"He'll  be  there  to  watch  the  race,"  I  thought ;  "and 
he'll  see  that  justice  is  done,  I'm  sure." 

There  was  a  photograph  of  Gilbert  Barr-Simons, 
too,  the  man  of  whom  Sheila  had  talked  on  the  day 
I  was  born.  I  had  remembered  the  name  because  he 
was  an  enemy  of  Hugh's,  just  as  I  should  have  kept 
in  my  cylinders  the  name  of  any  great  friend  of  his, 
though  for  a  very  different  reason.  They  did  not  pin 
up  his  picture  on  the  wall  of  the  workshop,  but  I  had 
a  glimpse  of  it,  as  Jean  was  showing  my  Master  that 
and  photographs  of  other  prominent  automobilists 
interested  in  the  Vandervoorst  Cup  Race.  He  was 

not  bad  looking,  this  Barr-Simons,  who.  was  a  rival 

68 


Champion 

of  Hugh  Cameron's,  I  had  to  admit  that;  but  there 
was  something  about  the  long,  dark  face  and  the  black, 
clever  eyes  that  made  me  think  I  should  be  sorry  to 
have  the  owner  for  my  driver.  I  wondered  whether 
Sheila  were  staying  with  his  wife  still,  or  if  she  had 
gone  away  immediately  after  what  she  heard  from 
her  brother;  and  whether  she  would  contrive  to  get 
over  to  France  in  one  way  or  another  to  see  Hugh 
win  the  race  with  his  Champion. 

For  the  race  was  to  be  run  in  France.  Under  the 
conditions  there  was  no  place  for  it,  my  Master  told 
Jean,  on  this  side  of  the  Channel ;  and  listening  eagerly 
I  heard  all  the  plans  being  made  to  take  me  across  the 
water  in  a  boat.  I  felt  that  I  should  be  more  easy 
when  the  time  came  for  us  to  go,  for  out  of  England 
Arnaud  would  have  passed  away  from  that  influence 
of  his  Toinette  which  somehow  I  dreaded. 

We  were  to  start  in  the  evening,  after  twilight,  so 
that  I  should  not  attract  any  attention,  and  my  Master 
was  to  drive  me  to  Newhaven.  He  had  been  with  me 
all  night  before,  and  had  been  too  excited  to  sleep  or 
even  to  keep  still.  I  had  never  seen  him  so  restless 
before,  and  I  guessed  in  my  dim,  inexperienced  way, 
that  the  long  strain  of  hard  work  with  suspense  at 
the  end,  was  beginning  to  tell  on  his  nerves.  Perhaps 
he  felt  this  himself,  for  when  Arnaud  came  in  the 

morning,  Hugh  proposed  not  to  come  back  until  late 

69 


Champion 

afternoon.  I  ought  to  have  a  good  sleep  if  I  can  get 
it,"  he  said,  confident  of  Arnaud's  sympathy,  "for 
I  shall  drive  to-night;  and  I  want  to  be  steady  as  a 
rock  for  the  day  of  the  race." 

Arnaud  was  somewhat  too  cordial,  it  seemed  to  me, 
in  his  wishes  for  a  long  rest  for  Monsieur.  "Now  is 
his  time  to  send  for  his  'Toinette,  if  he  means  mis- 
chief with  her,"  I  thought,  quivering  on  my  wheels 
a  little.  And  as  the  day  crept  along  I  was  on  the 
alert;  but  she  did  not  come.  There  was  one  thing, 
though,  that  worried  me  more  than  usual — for  I  had 
never  been  at  peace  since  the  night  of  Toinette's 
visit.  As  soon  as  my  Master  was  well  out  of  the  work- 
shop, Arnaud  whipped  O^L  of  his  pocket  a  letter.  But 
though  he  whipped  it  out,  he  opened  it  carefully; 
and  I  soon  saw  why.  Inside  were  two  bits  of  white 
paper  with  engraving  of  some  sort  that  looked  like 
printed  writing,  and  big  black  figures  on  one  side  of 
each  of  them.  I  know  now  that  they  were  bank-notes, 
for  I  have  seen  plenty  since  then;  but  in  those  days  I 
could  only  surmise  that  they  must  be  valuable,  at  least 
to  Arnaud.  He  picked  them  gingerly  from  between 
the  pages  of  his  letter,  as  if  he  were  afraid  they  might 
blow  away,  or  be  seized  by  some  unseen  spy.  For  a 
long  time  he  stared  first  at  one  and  then  at  the  other, 
looking  as  if  he  could  have  eaten  them  both,  and  yet 

as  if  he  were  deadly  afraid  that  some  one  else  would 

70 


Champion 

come  and  devour  them  before  he  could  dr>  it  himself. 
Then  he  read  the  letter  over  twice  or  thrice,  with  a 
sick,  anxious  expression  drawing  his  face  into  hag- 
gard lines.  Finally,  after  gazing  at  the  notes  again, 
he  put  them  back  inside  the  letter,  and  stuffed  the 
letter  hastily  into  a  breast  pocket  of  his  coat. 

Not  once,  but  five  or  six  times  during  the  day  did 
he  repeat  this  process;  and  when  he  was  not  re- 
reading the  letter  or  gazing  at  its  enclosures  he  walked 
about,  running  his  fingers  through  his  hair,  muttering 
to  himself  and  groaning.  Yet,  after  my  Master  came 
back  he  did  not  again  take  out  the  letter,  nor  did  he 
say  anything  about  it. 

He  had  eaten  no  lunch,  thpngh  until  lately  he  had 
always  shown  a  good  appetite  when  he  took  his  meals 
in  the  workshop,  but  he  drank  nearly  a  whole  flask 
of  some  strong-smelling  stuff  which  flushed  his  face 
at  first,  and  then  turned  it  yellow. 

"You're  not  knocked  out,  are  you,  Arnaud?"  asked 
Hugh  kindly.  Arnaud  said,  not  at  all ;  he  was  merely 
dreading  the  sea  trip.  He  was  such  a  bad  sailor,  that 
it  made  him  bilious  only  to  think  of  it. 

Before  we  started,  the  two  dismounted  my  propeller, 
swathed  it  up,  and  packed  it  carefully  away  on  a  plat- 
form behind.  That  being  done,  after  twilight  and  in 
the  eyes  of  an  amateur,  I  might  have  been  any  other 
big  racing  automobile.  This  was  right,  of  course, 

71 


Champion 

but  I  was  spoiled  by  my  magical  night  flights,  and  it 
was  like  being  a  fish  out  of  water  to  have  to  travel 
without  my  aerial  screw. 

It  was  not  once  needed,  however,  for  my  Master 
did  not  ask  me  for  any  great  speed  on  the  way  to 
Newhaven.  We  jogged  comfortably  along,  at  the 
childish  pace  of  about  thirty  to  forty  miles  an  hour, 
outside  London,  and  some  time  in  the  night  they  got 
me  on  board  a  big,  ugly,  noisy  creature  that  called 
itself  a  ship.  A  lot  of  gray,  wet  stuff  was  splashing 
up  and  down,  and  there  was  a  wild  wind  that  my  screw 
would  have  sucked  up  like  a  glass  of  water. 

I  felt  a  sense  of  helplessness  and  ignominy  at  being 
strung  up  by  an  unsympathetic  crane,  with  all  my 
wheels  off  the  ground,  and  as  for  the  silly,  rolling 
motion  in  which  that  boat  indulged  herself  when  she 
had  lolloped  out  of  the  harbor,  it  was  undignified  and 
even  indecent.  I  was  thankful  when  she  made  up  her 
mind,  with  an  idiotic  yell,  to  seek  refuge  in  quiet  water 
again,  which  turned  out  to  be  in  Dieppe  harbor,  on 
the  opposite  side  of  the  Channel  from  which  we  had 
started.  I  was  landed  in  the  same  disconcerting  way 
in  which  I  had  been  slung  on  board ;  but,  after  all,  my 
inner  workings  had  not  suffered  as  much  on  the  sea 
as  Arnaud's  had,  judging  from  his  face. 

There  we  were  on  a  French  quay,  in  the  gray  of 

early  morning,  I  a  little  sulky;  but  my  sulkiness  van- 

72 


Champion 

ished  as  the  darkness  of  night  was  vanishing,  when  I 
had  my  Master  by  my  side,  and  saw  how  pleased  he 
was  to  find  me  in  good  condition.  Still,  glad  as  I 
was  to  have  him  with  me,  I  was  sorry  to  hear  him 
telling  Arnaud  that  he  might  go  off  alone  to  make  ar- 
rangements for  putting  in  order  certain  papers  which 
would  regularly  admit  me  into  France.  If  I  could 
have  spoken  my  thoughts,  I  should  have  begged  Hugh 
not  to  let  Arnaud  out  of  his  sight  until  after  the  great 
race  was  run.  I  meant  to  do  all  that  was  in  me  to 
win  it,  and  I  did  not  see  how  Arnaud  would  have  the 
power  to  prevent  me  from  winning  once  we  had 
started,  for  my  Master  would  drive,  not  he.  Still,  I 
had  a  horrible  fear  that  he  was  in  danger  of  selling 
himself,  if  he  had  not  quite  sold  himself  already  to 
rivals  of  Hugh's,  and  I  hated  to  see  him  given  the 
smallest  chance  of  completing  a  bargain  which  per- 
haps he  had  not  yet  sunk  to  accepting. 

If  he  were  in  communication  with  enemies,  they 
were  pretty  sure  to  know  when  we  were  coming,  and 
I  felt  in  my  frame  that  they  would  be  lying  in  wait 
for  a  few  persuasive  words  with  the  wretched  Ar- 
naud. However,  it  might  have  been  even  worse  if 
my  Master  had  gone  off  and  left  me  with  Jean,  for, 
though  it  was  too  late  for  any  one  to  steal  my  secret 
and  imitate  me  before  the  race,  something  might  be 
done  to  me  which  would  put  me  out  of  the  running. 

73 


Champion 

When  Arnaud  had  disappeared,  Hugh  began  to 
take  off  the  tarpaulin  which  had  covered  me  up  for 
the  stormy  voyage,  and  get  me  ready  for  our  journey 
to  Paris,  which  we  would  begin  as  soon  as  the  formal- 
ities of  the  customs  were  over.  As  he  worked,  I 
darted  interested  glances  here  and  there,  keen  to  form 
impressions  of  each  new  part  of  the  world  as  it  came 
into  my  experience;  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  the 
people  who  passed  and  stared  at  me  were  very  dull 
and  narrow-minded  not  to  realize  that  I  could  see  as 
distinctly  as  they  could,  though  my  faculties  were  a 
little  different  from  theirs. 

"Fancy  these  creatures  not  even  knowing  that  I'm 
alive,  with  an  independent  will — anyhow  to  a  certain 
extent!"  I  was  saying  to  myself,  when  a  voice  just  be- 
hind me  said  in  English:  "What  a  wonderful,  pow- 
erful great  gray  dragon!  I  do  believe  it's  alive,  and 
has  a  soul." 

It  was  a  girl's  voice  which  said  that — just  as  sweet 
as  Sheila's,  though  different;  and  I  was  so  delighted 
and  so  grateful  to  the  one  person — besides  my  Master 
— who  had  ever  given  a  sign  of  understanding  my  real 
nature,  that  I  longed  to  see  the  speaker,  and  do  some- 
thing to  show  my  appreciation. 

But  she  was  standing  behind  me,  as  I  said,  and  I 
couldn't  see  so  much  as  the  tip  of  her  head,  or  the  toe 
of  her  foot.  I  was  sure,  though,  from  her  voice, 

74 


Champion 

that  she  must  be  pretty.  It  wouldn't  be  good  work- 
manship to  waste  a  lovely  voice  like  that  on  an  ugly 
creature,  any  more  than  it  would  be  to  fit  a  car  like 
me  with  a  little,  squeaky  bicycle  horn. 

"Don't  talk  so  loud  about  the  automobile,  Lia,  or 
the  young  man  who's  working  on  it  will  hear,  and 
think  we're  trying  to  attract  his  attention,"  murmured 
another  voice,  not  bad  in  its  way,  but  sounding  a  bit 
as  if  its  owner  talked  through  his  nose;  and  if  that 
nose  weren't  the  nose  of  an  old  gentleman,  I'd  have 
been  willing  to  eat  up  all  my  petrol  before  our  start ! 

"I  don't  care  if  he  does  hear,  Dad,  for  there's  no 
harm  in  being  interested  in  his  automobile,  it's  such 
a  grand  one  and  looks  so  different  from  others,  some- 
how— though  I  couldn't  exactly  tell  how,"  said  the 
girl  I  couldn't  see.  "I  should  just  love  to  ask  him  if 
he's  going  to  run  in  the  Vandervoorst  Cup  Race  all 
the  papers  are  so  full  of.  I  do  believe  it's  to-morrow." 

"Pooh!"  answered  her  "dad,"  in  a  low,  but  rather 
cross  tone.  "You  don't  know  anything  about  auto- 
mobiles, and  neither  do  I — and  we  don't  want  to. 
Come  away,  Cecilia,  and  let's  get  to  work  at  what  we 
do  want  to  do." 

"Speak  for  yourself,  Dad.  I  do  want  to  know 
things  about  automobiles,  especially  this  one.  But 
you  needn't  look  anxious.  I'm  not  going  to  speak  to 
the  young  man,  for  the  very  good  reason  that  he's 

75 


Champion 

probably  French  and  couldn't  understand  a  word  I 
say." 

All  this  time  my  Master  had  been  busily  unwrapping 
me,  but  I  could  tell  by  his  touch  the  he  was  growing 
a  little  absent-minded  about  his  work.  Suddenly  he 
spoke,  laughing  in  his  pleasant  way,  which  I  think  no 
creature,  whether  footed  or  wheeled,  could  resist. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  he,  "but  I'm  not  French, 
and  so  I  ought  to  tell  you  that  I've  understood,  and 
been  very  flattered  by  your  kind  words  about  my  car. 
Perhaps  your  good  wishes  will  bring  me  luck ;  for  my 
car  and  I  will  be  trying  our  fortunes  in  the  race,  as 
you  thought." 

"Well,  you've  the  good  wishes  of  both  of  us,  hasn't 
he,  father?"  exclaimed  the  girl. 

"Certainly,"  agreed  the  old  gentleman,  politely,  if 
reluctantly;  and  then  they  both  moved  forward,  into 
my  view. 

My  accelerator!  but  she  was  pretty.  As  it  hap- 
pened, the  only  two  other  women  who  had  come  near 
enough  to  me  to  step  into  my  life  in  any  way,  were 
both  beautiful.  Hugh's  sister,  Sheila,  and  Arnaud's 
Toinette.  But  this  girl  was  prettier  than  either  Sheila 
or  'Toinette;  prettier  than  any  of  the  women  of 
whose  faces  I  had  caught  glimpses  here  and  there  in 
my  twilight  or  moonlight  runs. 

She  was  dressed  in  a  dark-blue  dress,  which  was 

76 


Champion 

shoft  enough  to  show  two  adorable  little  feet  in 
russet  brown  shoes,  feet  not  much  bigger  than  chil- 
dren's feet,  though  about  a  hundred  times  daintier  in 
shape.  On  her  head  was  a  hat  of  dark-blue,  like  her 
dress,  behind  it  floating  fold  upon  fold  of  blue  veil, 
which  made  an  effective  background  for  hair  exactly 
the  color  of  a  handful  of  new  copper  pennies,  just 
struck  off  by  the  mint,  which  I  had  admired  when  my 
Master  brought  them  into  the  workshop  one  day.  I 
remembered  that  incident,  because  when  Hugh  had 
shown  the  pennies  to  Arnaud,  saying  there  was  a  new 
and  striking  effigy  of  the  King  on  them,  he  had  added, 
"What  a  beautiful  color  new  copper  is — much  richer 
than  gold.  This  copper-red  is  the  most  gorgeous  shade 
in  the  world  for  a  woman's  hair,  I  think." 

Now,  here  was  a  woman  with  hair  of  that  color, 
and  her  big,  dark-gray  eyes  and  her  white  skin  seemed 
to  make  it  glitter  more  dazzlingly.  She  was  young, 
too — as  young  as  the  morning,  and  her  face  was  pearly 
in  the  gleaming  dawn.  If  she  thought  me  wonderful, 
I  thought  her  wonderful,  too — the  sweet,  slender  crea- 
ture, so  vivid  and  full  of  eager  life,  beside  that  tired- 
looking,  gray-haired  father  of  hers,  who  took  no  in- 
terest in  me. 

"It's  just  as  my  father  says,  I  don't  know  anything 
about  autos,"  the  girl  went  on.  "But  then,  why 
shouldn't  I  want  to  know?  I  don't  know  anything 

57 


Champion 

about  Europe  yet,  because  we  only  landed  in  Liver- 
pool yesterday  from  New  York,  and  came  right  over 
here;  but  there's  nothing  about  it  I  don't  mean  to 
know,  and  father  thinks  I'm  all  right  about  that,  so 
why  not  about  automobiles — and  everything  else  in 
the  world  that's  worth  knowing  about?" 

"Why  not,  indeed?"  asked  my  Master,  smiling  as 
he  looked  at  the  beautiful  young  girl,  glowing  like  a 
rose  now  in  her  eagerness  to  find  out  everything  in 
life.  "But  you  don't  seem  to  have  cared  to  know 
much  about  my  country." 

"Your  country?"  echoed  the  girl. 

"Not  exactly  mine,  for  I'm  Scotch — a  'wild  High- 
lander'— but  being  British,  perhaps  I  have  a  right  to 
call  England  my  country,  too." 

"And  you  think  we  don't  care  about  it,  because  we 
didn't  stop,  I  suppose;  but  that  was  because  we  care 
so  much.  We  wanted  to  see  England  at  its  loveliest, 
and  I've  always  heard  that  was  in  the  spring.  Dad 
couldn't  start  last  spring:  he's  only  come  at  all  to 
please  me,  because  he  thinks  he's  too  busy  to  amuse 
himself;  but  he's  awfully  good  about  doing  things  to 
please  me,  so  he's  promised  to  take  me  all  over  France 
and  Germany  and  Austria,  then  Italy  when  it  gets  cold ; 
perhaps  Spain  and  a  little  of  the  East,  and,  at  last,  all 
May  and  June  in  England  before  we  sail  for  home. 
You  see,  we  saved  the  best  for  the  last." 

78 


Champion 

"I  see.  You  are  quite  right,"  said  my  Master.  But 
he  was  admiring  her  so  much  that  he  would  probably 
have  thought  she  was  quite  right  to  spend  the  summer 
at  the  North  Pole — a  place  I'd  often  heard  him  men- 
tion, apparently  with  some  disparagement. 

"I  think  we  are  keeping  this  gentleman  from  start- 
ing," said  the  beauty's  tired-looking  father.  "We  had 
better  go  now,  Lia.  I  expect  those  officials  will  be 
about  their  business  by  this  time." 

My  Master  hurried  to  explain  that  they  were  not 
keeping  him,  because  his  mechanic  had  gone  to  see 
about  the  car's  papers.  He  was  sure  to  be  away  a 
long  time,  as  custom  house  officers  were  always  slow 
in  measuring  their  red  tape.  "It  is  so  very  kind  of 
you  both  to  talk  to  me,"  he  added.  And  he  said  it 
so  pleasantly  that  I  could  see  the  old  gentleman  visibly 
thawing.  He  began  to  brighten  up,  and  I  thought  that 
perhaps  he  wasn't  so  old,  after  all,  but  had  tried  to 
crowd  about  five  years'  work  into  each  single  year  of 
his  life,  which  gave  him  that  tired  look.  When  he 
heard  that  Hugh  was  waiting  for  something  that  had 
to  do  with  officialdom,  he  said  that  his  daughter  had 
lost  some  of  their  luggage,  or,  rather,  it  could  not  be  < 
found  when  they  had  landed  from  the  passenger-boat 
a  few  hours  earlier. 

"We  were  advised  to  go  to  bed  at  a  hotel  near  the 
quay,  and  come  back  the  first  thing  in  the  morning 

79 


Champion 

to  see  if  anything  had  been  learned  about  it,"  he  went 
on.  "Well,  it's  the  first  thing  in  the  morning  now,  and 
here  we  are ;  but  not  a  soul  who  knows  anything  about 
the  matter  of  the  missing  hat-box  has  turned  up  yet. 
I  tell  you  we  do  things  differently  over  my  side  of  the 
water,  and  I  was  prepared  to  find  France  pretty  lively 
and  up  to  date,  but  this  doesn't  look  like  it,  does  it, 
sir?" 

My  Master  was  very  sympathetic — more  than  he 
would  have  been  if  the  hat-box  had  been  the  father's 
instead  of  the  daughter's.  He  offered  to  help,  as  the 
old  gentleman  and  the  girl  confessed  to  knowing 
hardly  any  French — "except  book  French" — and 
finally  to  my  pleasure  as  well  as  his  it  was  settled  that 
they  should  stop  until  Arnaud  came  back.  Then  Hugh 
would  see  the  father  and  daughter  through  their  diffi- 
culties; and  as  they  would  not  be  far  off,  and  might 
come  back  at  any  moment,  I  didn't  think  that  Arnaud 
would  have  time  to  play  any  tricks  with  me. 

Soon  they  were  all  three  as  friendly  as  if  they  had 
known  one  another  for  days;  and  when  they  had  told 
each  other  their  names — the  old  man  and  the  girl  were 
Murrays,  and  claimed  Scotch  ancestry,  which  pleased 
my  Master — Miss  Cecilia  began  asking  more  questions 
about  me.  She  thought  Champion  a  splendid  name, 
"just  right"  for  such  a  noble  car,  as  well  as  prophetic; 

and  she  was  astonished  when  she  was  told  that  I  was 

80 


Champion 

the  first  of  my  kind,  that  no  hands  had  touched  me 
in  the  making  of  any  important  parts,  except  those  of 
my  Master  and  one  other  man,  his  employee. 

"If  I  won  the  race,"  said  Hugh,  "I  should  become 
the  father  of  many  cars,  built  from  the  same  designs." 

"And  do  you  think  Champion  will  win?"  asked  the 
girl. 

"Barring  accidents,  I  don't  see  that  we  need  fear 
anything  else,"  answered  Hugh. 

Ah!  that  was  it,  "barring  accidents."  What  was 
Arnaud  doing?  I  wondered.  Was  it  only  the  busi- 
ness of  my  papers  that  kept  him  away  so  long? 

"I  shall  be  thinking  about  you — and  Champion — all 
day  to-morrow,"  said  Cecilia.  "So  will  Dad.  It's  like 
knowing  a  horse  before  a  race.  I'm  a  Kentucky  girl 
— at  least,  I  was  born  there,  and  we  didn't  come  to  live 
in  New  York  until  I  was  twelve.  Maybe  you  know, 
in  Kentucky  we  think  a  lot  of  horses  and  sport  of  all 
kinds.  And  once  I  was  allowed  to  ride  a  famous  horse 
only  two  or  three  days  before  he  won  a  big  race.  I 
shall  never  forget  how  I  felt — and  how  glad  I  was 
when  my  horse  won." 

"How  I  wish  I  could  give  you  a  spin  on  Champion !" 
said  Hugh.  "Then  perhaps  you  would  feel  something 
like  that  if  we  bring  it  off  in  the  great  race." 

"Oh,  I  would  give  anything  in  the  world  to  do  it — • 

just  anything  in  the  world !"  the  girl  whispered. 

81 


Champion 

"Well,  then,  why  shouldn't  you?"  exclaimed  my 
Master.  "Would  you  let  me  take  her,  Mr.  Murray?" 

"She's  never  been  on  an  automobile,"  hesitated  the 
tired-looking  gentleman,  "and  I  don't  know  that  I'm 
very  anxious  to  have  her  go." 

"Oh,  but  Dad,  if  it  would  make  me  happier  than 
anything  else  possibly  could  ? — and  you  brought  me  to 
Europe  to  make  me  happy!"  cried  Miss  Cecilia. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we  might  do.  It  would  be  a 
splendid  plan,"  said  Hugh  eagerly.  "We  could  send 
Arnaud  into  the  town  to  hire  another  car — not  a  racer, 
of  course — and  he  could  drive  it  to  Paris  with  you  and 
the  luggage,  Mr.  Murray,  keeping  close  to  me,  while 
I  drove  Miss  Murray  on  Champion.  Would  you  con- 
sent to  that?" 

"I'm  afraid  that  really "  began  Mr.  Murray ;  but 

his  daughter  cut  him  short. 

"Oh,  Dad,  you  can't  refuse  such  a  chance  for  me,  to 
have  the  time  of  my  life !"  she  coaxed,  at  the  same  time 
slipping  her  hand  through  her  father's  arm.  I'm  sure 
if  she  had  tried  in  that  way  to  steer  me  up  a  hill  of 
one  in  two,  or  a  flight  of  stairs  as  steep  as  a  ladder, 
I  should  have  gone  without  a  sigh  from  my  silencer; 
and  the  tired  gentleman  was  too  tired  to  resist  long. 
He  objected,  and  argued,  but  she  cooed  him  down,  and 
presently  it  was  settled  to  the  satisfaction  of  three  in 

the  party — counting  me — that  the  beautiful  Miss  Mur- 

82 


"HE  OBJECTED,   AND  ARGUED,   BUT  SHE  COOED  HIM   DOWN." 

(f.  82.) 


Champion 

ray  should  be  Hugh's  companion  and  mine  on  the  way 
to  Paris,  instead  of  going  there  by  train  as  she  had 
expected  to  do. 

This  was  just  decided,  when  Arnaud  appeared  with 
the  papers,  apologizing  glibly  for  the  delay,  and  cast- 
ing a  furtive  eye  on  the  strangers,  though  he  was  too 
well  trained  to  show  surprise  that  his  master  should 
have  picked  up  friends.  He  could  not  keep  his  fea- 
tures under  the  same  control,  though,  when  he  heard 
the  plan  for  the  day.  His  face  fell,  and  for  an  instant 
there  was  such  an  odd,  hunted  look  in  his  eyes  that  I 
felt  there  was  more  in  his  chagrin  than  mere  disgust 
at  being  told  off  to  drive  an  unknown  old  gentleman 
in  a  common,  hired  car. 

"Something  was  arranged  to  happen  on  the  jour- 
ney," I  said  to  myself  gloomily,  "something  that  he 
doesn't  know  how  he  is  going  to  rearrange  now.  What 
was  it  ?" 


CHAPTER  VI. 

/  Come  to  Paris. 

If  Arnaud  had  been  planning  any  treachery  for  the 
journey  to  Paris,  there  was  danger  that,  when  he  went 
in  search  of  another  car,  he  might  find  an  opportunity 
of  rearranging  his  plot  to  suit  altered  circumstances. 

I  had  not  an  easy  moment  until  he  came  back,  dri- 
ving a  mincing  piece  of  affectation,  which,  I  suppose, 
called  itself  an  automobile.  It  was  all  red  paint  and 
brass,  and  fussy  little  fringes  on  a  kind  of  canopy,  but 
Arnaud  said  it  was  the  best  he  could  do  at  short  no- 
tice, as  all  the  finest  and  most  modern  cars  at  the 
Dieppe  garages  were  out  or  engaged,  and  they  would 
not  let  even  this  one  go  to  Paris  without  a  chauffeur 
from  the  place  where  it  was  hired. 

Arnaud  was  the  picture  of  sullen  discontent,  and  I 
chuckled  in  my  bonnet,  for  I  thought  that  his  silent 
rage  was  too  deep  for  mere  vexation  at  losing  a  ride 
on  me,  or  even  being  obliged  to  conduct  strangers  in 
a  bad  car.  "Perhaps  he  tried  to  find  the  enemy  to  tell 
him  of  the  changed  plan,  and  failed  to  come  across 
him,"  I  said  to  myself,  beginning  to  cheer  up. 

It  was  better  than  a  bath  of  oil  when  your  engine 
was  overheated  to  see  the  pleasure  of  jthat  beautiful 

84 


Champion 

girl  at  the  prospect  of  a  spin  with  me ;  and,  besides,  the 
conceit  of  the  little  superannuated  red  automobile 
would  have  made  a  cracked  cylinder  rattle  with  laugh- 
ter. The  poor  thing  actually  thought  itself  superior 
to  me,  and  put  on  the  airs  of  a  languishing  beauty, 
telling  me  about  its  successes  in  the  past.  Some  racers 
would  have  snubbed  it,  but  I  thank  my  sparks  my 
Master  must  have  cast  a  little  of  his  own  sense  of 
humor  in  my  metal;  therefore,  I  was  highly  amused 
at  the  ignorance  of  the  poor  little  wretch,  and  then 
it  was  my  first  chance  to  exchange  ideas  with  any 
creature  of  my  own  kind. 

Poor  Reddy  thought  I  was  ugly  because  I  was  of 
English  make,  and  sniffed  out  its  opinion  that  women 
and  automobiles  from  across  the  Channel  had  no  style. 
"Now,  I  am  so  attractive  with  my  nice  bright  paint 
and  smart  cushions,  and  brass,  and  my  clean  white 
fringe  that  my  people  can  easily  get  four  louis  a  day 
for  letting  me  out,"  the  creature  whiffled,  as  she  stood 
by  my  side  while  they  loaded  her  up  with  luggage  from 
the  hotel,  and  luggage  retrieved  from  some  mysterious 
hiding-place  on  the  quay.  "How  much  do  your  people 
get  for  you?  I  shouldn't  say  much,  for,  if  you'll 
excuse  me,  I  never  saw  anything  quite  so  outre  as  the 
shape  of  your  body,  and  your  color  is  rather  forbid- 
ding, to  say  nothing  of  your  having  only  two  seats, 
which  scarcely  deserve  the  name." 


Champion 

"My  Master  never  lets  me,  and  I  don't  think  he 
would,"  I  said  quietly,  at  which  little  Reddy  chuckled 
rudely. 

"Say  'could'  instead  of  'would,'  and  you'd  be  nearer 
the  mark,  my  poor,  plain  friend,"  said  she  smartly. 
But  I  was  almost  sorry  for  the  little  horror  presently, 
when  Miss  Murray  laughed  at  her  fringe,  and  ex- 
claimed that  she  looked  like  a  doll's  house  on  wheels. 
I  was  glad,  too,  that  I  hadn't  made  any  unchivalrous 
retort,  when  I  saw  the  expression  on  poor  Reddy's 
bonnet  as  I  started,  and  left  her  limping  far  behind. 

Off  I  flew,  like  an  arrow  compared  to  her  little 
pottering  power,  and  my  Master  had  to  be  constantly 
slowing  down,  otherwise  we  should  not  have  seen 
Mr.  Murray,  Arnaud,  and  Reddy  again  until  they  had 
crawled  after  us  to  Paris.  I  kept  wishing  that  this 
very  thing  might  happen,  and  did  my  best  to  bring 
it  about;  but  my  Master  wouldn't  give  me  my  head, 
much  as  he  would — I'm  sure — have  liked  doing  it.  I 
know  now,  with  all  my  experience  of  the  world,  and 
its  funny,  conventional  ideas,  which  it  takes  so  se- 
riously, that  girls  are  never  allowed  to  go  off  alone 
with  young  men  for  any  length  of  time  unless  they 
are  relations,  or  have  agreed  to  be  married ;  but  I  was 
blissfully  ignorant  of  such  nonsense  then,  and  I 
thought  it  very  silly  of  the  old  gentleman  to  spoil  his 
daughter's  day  by  keeping  her  under  his  eye,  and  me 


Champion 

at  almost  a  walking  pace  of  twenty  miles  or  so  an 
hour.  Indeed,  I  was  even  tempted  once  or  twice  to 
criticize  my  Master,  and  think  him  wrong  to  humor 
the  girl's  father. 

She  often  looked  back  over  her  shoulder  to  see  how 
Reddy  and  Reddy's  passenger  were  getting  on,  or 
to  wave  her  hand ;  and  then  she  would  pay  some  com- 
pliment to  me — not  as  if  she  wanted  to  be  flattering, 
but  as  if  she  was  so  happy  that  she  couldn't  help  say- 
ing kind  things. 

After  we  had  been  traveling  for  some  time,  and 
she  had  told  anecdotes  about  herself  and  her  past  life 
to  Hugh,  and  Hugh  had  told  things  about  himself  and 
his  pretty  sister,  Sheila,  to  her,  she  broke  out  suddenly : 

"I  wonder  if  you'd  think  me  very  bold  and  officious 
if  I  said  something  odd  to  you?" 

I  had  been  enjoying  the  scenery  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  hardly  listening  to  the  conversation,  but  her 
change  of  tone  was  so  abrupt  that  I  pricked  up  my 
valves  and  stopped  trying  to  count  apple-trees  in  the 
orchards  through  which  we  passed. 

"I  couldn't  think  you  bold  or  officious,"  answered 
my  Master.  "I'm  not  so  stupid  as  all  that,  you  know, 
though  I  am  a  Britisher." 

They  both  laughed  at  this,  for  they  had  been  chaff- 
ing each  other  about  their  rival  countries;  but  the 
girl  still  hesitated, 


Champion 

"I  haven't  any  right  to  say  what  I  want  to,"  she 
went  on.  "Maybe  it  will  offend  you?" 

"I  promise  you  it  won't,"  returned  Hugh,  who  al- 
ways said  exactly  the  kind  of  thing  I  wanted  him  to 
say,  as  I  had  often  thought  before.  "You  couldn't 
want  to  say  anything  which  would  offend  me.  If  it's 
about  Champion " 

"Oh,  I  should  only  have  praise  for  Champion,  if 
I  talked  all  day  and  half  the  night,"  laughed  the  girl. 
"It's  about  Champion's  chauffeur.  I  don't  like  his 
face,  Mr.  Cameron,  and  I  hate  to  think  you  trust  him 
so  much.  I  watched  the  man,  and  he  never  once  met 
your  eye  when  he  spoke  to  you.  There's  something 
queer  about  his  manner,  too.  I  suppose  he  isn't  mad, 
is  he?" 

"Not  he,"  said  Hugh,  "he's  only  tired  out  with 
hard  work  and  many  vigils;  and  his  Latin  blood  is 
boiling  with  excitement  about  the  race.  He'll  probably 
collapse  after  it's  all  over,  but  I  don't  believe  he'll 
fail  me  while  I  need  his  help;  he  never  has  yet." 

"Don't  trust  too  much  to  his  help,"  said  the  girl. 
"Think  of  all  you've  told  me  about  this  race — how  it 
means  everything  to  you  for  your  future.  What  if 
your  man  has  been  bought  by  those  who  would  like 
to  steal  your  invention?" 

"It's  angelic  of  you  to  take  an  interest,"  exclaimed 

Hugh,    "But  I  think  you  misjudge  Arnaud,     If  I 

68 


Cfiampion 


win  the  ten  thousand  pound  prize,  he  knows  I  mean 
to  give  him  a  clear  thousand;  so  he's  likely  to  keep 
straight  for  mercenary  motives,  if  not  for  loyalty. 
He's  confided  to  me  that  he  is  in  love  with  a  country- 
woman of  his  own — some  pretty  French  girl — who's 
singing  at  a  music-hall  in  London.  It's  quite  a  ro- 
mance, I  believe,  for  it  seems  the  girl's  rather  a  swell 
in  her  way — handsome,  and  a  great  favorite  with  the 
music-hall  public — of  which  I'm  not  one,  so  I've  never 
heard  or  seen  her.  Arnaud  used  to  go,  when  he  could 
get  off — after  I  brought  him  to  England  to  work  for 
me — every  night  to  all  the  music-halls  where  she  sang 
some  song  that  had  made  a  hit.  Then  he  began  send- 
ing her  presents,  and  writing  letters  of  the  humblest 
adoration,  but  at  first  she  paid  not  the  slightest  atten- 
tion to  her  lowly  admirer.  At  last,  however,  when 
he  had  given  up  hope  of  receiving  any  word  or  sign 
from  her — though  apparently  she  kept  his  offerings ! — 
she  answered,  and  invited  him  to  call. 

"That  was  the  beginning  of  the  acquaintance,  and 
now  Arnaud  is  in  the  seventh  heaven  of  incredulous 
delight  because  his  divinity  has  vaguely  encouraged 
him  to  hope,  if  he  can  make  money  enough  to  support 
a  wife  as  she  ought  to  be  supported.  All  this  he  told 
me  only  last  night;  so  you  see  a  great  deal  is  hanging 
in  the  balance  for  the  man  as  well  as  the  master.  And 
if  you  have  the  kindness  for  a,  love-affair  that  young 


Champion 

ladies  are  said  to  have,  perhaps  this  little  story  will 
have  softened  your  heart  to  poor  Arnaud?" 

"I'm  not  sure  it  hasn't  worried  me  more,"  said  the 
girl.  "He  doesn't  look  the  sort  of  a  man  a  singer  of 
that  sort  would  commit  an  imprudence  for.  He  isn't 
a  bit  handsome  or  dashing." 

"Yet,  apparently,  he  made  an  impression." 

"Apparently.  But  how?  You  say  the  woman 
wouldn't  have  anything  to  do  with  him  at  first.  "Why 
did  she  suddenly  change  her  mind?" 

"I  thought  that  was  a  woman's  privilege." 

"So  it  is,  when  she  has  a  good  reason.  But  I  don't 
see  that  Arnaud  is  a  good  reason.  He  has  a  common 
face." 

"Clever." 

"Would  that  appeal  to  such  a  girl?  I  wonder  if 
he  ever  talked  to  her  about  your  car?" 

"He  would  probably  have  bored  her  to  death  if  he 
had.  Women  only  care  to  talk  about  their  own  motor- 
cars." 

"Am  I  not  talking  to  you — and  caring  to  talk — 
about  your  Champion?" 

"Ah,  but  you're  an  exception.  I  never  met  any  girl 
at  all  like  you." 

"Did  you  never  know  any  other  American  ones?" 

"Never." 

'Tsrhaps,  if  you  had,  you'd  think  we  were  all  ali^e," 

90 


Champion 

"Oh,  no,  I  shouldn't." 

"How  can  you  tell?" 

"I  have  a  conviction  that  if  I  searched  America  I 
shouldn't  be  able  to  find  another  like  you." 

"You  won't  trust  my  conviction;  why  should  you 
trust  your  own,  which  is  only  a  man's  ?  Women  have 
a  sort  of  corner  in  such  things." 

"Well,  I  have  a  secondary  conviction,  which  is,  that 
you'd  not  be  so  hard  on  Arnaud  if  he  were  a  hand- 
some fellow." 

"How  unkind  you  are!  But  promise  me  you  won't 
let  him  drive  Champion  in  the  race." 

"I'll  promise  that  with  pleasure."  He  didn't  be- 
little his  promise  by  explaining  that  he'd  never  meant 
Arnaud  to  drive. 

"And  that  you  won't  once  leave  him  alone  with  your 
car  till  after  the  race  is  safely  over." 

"I'll  promise  that,  too."  I  squeaked  a  little  with 
joy  when  I  heard  this;  for  if  Hugh  hadn't  wished  to 
please  Miss  Cecilia  Murray  he  would  have  been  very 
likely  to  give  me  unsuspectingly  into  Arnaud's  charge 
for  the  night.  Now,  thanks  to  her  extraordinary  in- 
tuition and  sympathetic  interest  in  my  success,  one 
danger  that  I  myself  had  no  power  to  ward  off  was 
averted. 

Hardly  had  my  Master  given  his  word,  which 
pledged  him  to  remain  continually  at  my  side  until  our 

9* 


Champion 

fate  was  decided,  when  a  loud  tooting  of  Reddy's 
bronchitic  little  horn  caused  him  to  slow  down,  and 
then  to  run  back. 

That  was  because  Reddy  had  stopped,  I  soon  learned 
from  a  few  words  which  passed  between  my  Master 
and  Miss  Cecilia — or  "Lia,"  as  she  was  called  by  her 
father.  Arnaud  shouted  that  something  was  wrong, 
and  then,  leaving  Reddy's  chauffeur  to  tinker  sulkily 
at  her  inner  workings,  he  came  to  my  side,  beginning 
to  jabber  very  fast  in  French.  He  had  been  driving 
without  the  slightest  difficulty,  he  said,  though  the 
chauffeur  pretended  that  he  did  not  thoroughly  under- 
stand the  car,  and  the  breakdown  was  clearly  not  his 
fault.  But  the  other  man  had  the  vanity  of  a  monkey, 
and  was  ready  to  attribute  all  the  trouble  to  him.  The 
chauffeur — silly  fellow — vowed  that  if  he  were  al- 
lowed to  drive  he  could  keep  up  with  the  racer,  without 
damaging  his  car.  Now,  would  the  Honorable  Mon- 
sieur Cameron  allow  him — Arnaud — to  forge  ahead 
of  Champion  and  keep  ahead,  if  even  for  a  short  time, 
just  to  prove  to  the  conceited  idiot  that  if  any  speed 
could  be  got  out  of  the  little  old  automobile,  Jean 
Arnaud  could  do  it  as  well,  if  not  better,  than  one 
who  was  used  to  driving  her  every  day? 

"Oh,  certainly,  I'll  let  you  have  a  fair  start,  and 
show  what  you  can  do,"  laughed  my  Master.  "But 
make  the  chap  hurry  up,  won't  you?" 


Champion 

"He  will  be  ready  in  a  minute,  unless  he  is  a  fool," 
said  Arnaud.  "It's  the  pump  that  was  not  working 
properly,  and  so  I  told  him,  though  he  wouldn't  be- 
lieve it  till  he  had  seen  for  himself." 

The  Frenchman  ran  off,  and  I  expected  a  little  con- 
versation to  follow  with  Mr.  Murray ;  but  his  daughter 
told  Hugh  to  look  back  and  see  how  eagerly  her  father 
was  watching  the  progress  of  repairs.  "He's  interested 
in  automobiles  already,  in  spite  of  himself,"  she  said. 
"That's  a  good  thing,  for  after  this  day's  glorious  ex- 
perience I  sha'n't  give  him  any  peace  till  he  buys  one 
for  us  to  tour  about  in.  But  tell  me,  why  did  your 
chauffeur  call  you  the  'Honorable  Monsieur  Camer- 
on'? Is  that  just  his  way  of  speaking,  or  have  you  a 
title  or  something?'' 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  Hugh  hastily.  "It's  only  a 
silly  sort  of  courtesy  handle,  all  nonsense,  you  know; 
but  Arnaud  is  a  bit  of  a  snob,  and  has  a  womanlike 
idea  that  it  will  impress  people." 

"But  just  what  does  it  mean,  anyhow?"  asked  Miss 
Cecilia.  "In  my  country,  when  people  are  'Honor- 
ables/  they're  either  judges,  or  senators,  or  congress- 
men, or  public  sort  of  characters." 

"Nothing  so  grand  about  me,"  said  Hugh.  "The 
'Honorable'  comes  to  me  whether  I  like  it  or  not,  on 
account  of  my  father." 

"You  might  gratify  my  curiosity  and  explain." 

93 


Champion 

"You  see,  he's  a  parson." 

"Does  that  make  his  son  an  'Honorable'?  What  a 
funny  British  custom." 

"It  ought  to,  but  it  doesn't.  However,  the  real  way 
is  just  as  funny,  I  dare  say;  it  depends  on  how  you 
look  at  it.  He  happens  also  to  be  a  viscount,  so  as 
that  isn't  high  enough  up  in  the  peerage  to  give  his 
children  titles,  they  have  handles  instead.  Isn't  it 
silly?" 

"I  think  it's  rather  fun.  I  should  be  quite  proud  of 
it,  if  I  were  you,"  said  Lia. 

"I'm  not,  a  bit.  A  man  ought  to  be  rich  to  live  up 
to  that  sort  of  thing,  whereas  I — well,  I've  spent  every 
penny  I  have  in  the  world  making  this  blessed  car.  If 
I  fail  in  the  race  I  shall  be  blotted  out.  I  practically 
sha'n't  exist.  If  I  win,  why,  Champion  and  I  will 
loom  big  in  the  eyes  of  Europe  for  a  day  or  two — 
quite  long  enough  for  the  starting  of  a  big  syndicate 
for  the  manufacturing  of  other  motors  with  all  Cham- 
pion's peculiarities  and  virtues.  That's  what  I've  been 
working  for;  and  most  of  the  prize — if  I  get  it — will 
go  into  that  company.  I  shall  have  my  invention  pat- 
ented immediately  after  the  race,  and  all  will  be  well." 

"Why  didn't  you  have  it  patented  before?  I  never 
heard  of  such  a  reckless  thing." 

"It  isn't  as  reckless  as  it  sounds."  And  then  he  went 
on  to  explain,  as  he  had  to  Sheila,  that  there  was  a 

94 


Champion 

man — an  enemy  of  his — who  might  have  got  access 
to  his  secret  from  the  diagrams,  and  rushed  in  an  idea 
of  his  own  before  Hugh's  business  could  have  been 
completed.  "Once  I've  won  this  race,  the  whole  world 
will  know  what  Champion  is,"  he  went  on,  "and  no 
one  can  lay  claim  to  having  had  the  idea  before  me." 

"Well,  don't  trust  your  Arnaud  too  far,"  Lia  reit- 
erated, and  just  then  the  little  red  car  shot  by  us,  Mr. 
Murray  taking  off  his  traveling-cap  to  wave,  and  look- 
ing quite  excited  behind  his  eyeglasses. 

We  were  close  to  a  little  place  named  Forges  les 
Eaux,  it  seemed,  when  this  happened,  and  my  Master 
pleased  Arnaud  and  the  strange  chauffeur  by  trailing 
meekly  at  Reddy's  heels  as  we  passed  through  the 
market-place  of  the  town,  out  again  into  open  country. 
Suddenly,  as  we  were  trotting  slowly  along,  humoring 
Reddy,  Arnaud  put  on  his  best  speed,  and  the  scarlet 
car,  surprised  at  its  own  wild  pace,  jumped  ahead  at 
something  like  thirty  miles  an  hour — more  than  it 
could  keep  up,  over  the  first  stretch  of  rising  ground. 

"Hello!"  I  said  to  myself.  "So  this  was  Arnaud's 
game.  It  means  something  queer,  there's  no  doubt, 
and  I  must  have  been  dreaming  not  to  have  suspected 
it  before." 

My  impulse  was  to  spring  forward,  overtake  Reddy, 
and  see  what  Arnaud  was  about,  but  my  Master  had 
no  such  anxiety.  He  was  delighted  to  have  the  girl 

95 


C  h  a  rrf  p  i  o  n 

comfortably  to  himself,  I  guessed,  with  her  father 
far  in  front,  instead  of  following  close  behind,  so  he 
held  me  back  instead  of  letting  me  rush  on  according 
to  my  will.  Even  the  girl  had  no  suspicion,  and  the 
two  talked  and  laughed,  while  it  was  a  wonder  my  car- 
buration  did  not  go  wrong  in  my  impatience. 

When  we  did  come  in  sight  of  Reddy  again,  she 
had  slackened  speed  for  a  hill,  up  which  she  was  toil- 
ing painfully;  and  when  Hugh,  laughing,  called  out 
to  Arnaud  that  really  he  should  have  to  pass  him  now, 
Arnaud  answered,  "Pass,  Monsieur,  and  welcome.  I 
have  made  my  little  effect,  thank  you.  All  is  well." 

His  voice  sounded  quite  cheerful,  and  I  was  sure 
that  his  words  had  a  double  meaning.  He  had  made 
"little  effect,"  and  "all  was  well."  What,  then,  had 
happened  at  this  spot  which  Arnaud  had  desired  to 
reach  before  us? 

"We've  just  seen  such  a  fine  automobile,"  said  Mr. 
Murray,  as  we  passed  him  on  the  hill,  "a  bit  like  yours 
in  shape,  so  I  suppose  it  must  have  been  another  racer. 
If  you  hurry  you  can  see  it  still,  maybe,  when  you  get 
to  the  top  of  the  hill  beyond." 

We  did  hurry,  though  I  don't  think  it  occurred  to 
my  Master  that  the  prescence  of  the  "fine  automobile" 
had  any  connection  with  us. 

What  we  did  see,  however,  was  only  a  far,  gray 

cloud  of  dust  in  the  distance,  which  effectually  hid 

96 


Champion 

whatever  object  it  might  contain;  and  Hugh  had  too 
much  consideration  for  Mr.  Murray's  feelings  as  a 
father  to  quicken  his  pace  and  overtake  the  thing,  even 
had  he  been  moved  by  curiosity  to  do  so. 

We  almost  stopped  at  the  top  of  the  hill,  and  waited 
politely  for  Reddy  to  come  up  with  us  again. 

"Your  chauffeur  was  acquainted  with  the  men  in 
that  other  car,"  said  Mr.  Murray.  "I  don't  know  if 
they  had  had  an  accident,  but,  anyhow,  they  were  sta- 
tionary in  the  little  cross-road  with  the  poplars,  which 
you  must  have  noticed  just  before  the  hill;  and  your 
chauffeur  called  out  something  to  them  in  French. 
With  that,  they  made  off  as  if  the  fiend  was  after  them. 
I  can't  get  him  to  understand  my  English,  so  do  ask 
him  to  explain  what  happened.  My  curiosity  was 
aroused,  especially  as  the  other  chauffeur,  who  speaks 
English  very  well,  insists  that  your  man  didn't  call 
out  in  French,  because  he  couldn't  understand  a  word 
that  was  said." 

My  Master  looked  surprised  to  hear  that  Arnaud's 
English  had  suddenly  failed  in  such  an  emergency, 
for  he  knew  even  better  than  I  did,  perhaps,  that  when 
Arnaud  chose  he  could  speak  English  quite  respectably, 
if  not  fluently,  and  understand  any  ordinary  conver- 
sation, too.  But  then,  possibly,  Mr.  Murray's  Ameri- 
can pronunciation  and  accent  might  have  made  some 
difference  with  ears  not  accustomed  to  it. 

97 


Champion 

"Who  were  the  men  in  the  automobile  you  saw,  Ar- 
naud?"  asked  Hugh  in  French,  more  to  please  Mr. 
Murray,  I  think,  than  because  he  cared  to  know. 

"They  were  strangers  to  me,  sir,"  replied  Arnaud. 
"I  but  asked  them  if  anything  was  the  matter,  or  if 
they  needed  help,  and  they  answered  that  they  were 
all  right  now,  thanked  me,  and  passed  on,  taking  the 
road  to  Paris.  They,  perhaps,  started  from  Dieppe 
before  us,  and  were  en  panne  at  this  place  for  some 
time.  Probably  we  shall  see  them  again  on  the  day 
of  the  race." 

"There  was  no  other  car  on  our  boat  when  we 
crossed  last  night,"  said  my  Master. 

"No,  Monsieur;  but  I  heard  that  a  number  of  men 
with  their  motors  had  come  over  by  the  previous  boat, 
and  spent  the  night  at  Dieppe,  starting  again  at  dawn." 

"Were  the  men  in  the  car  Frenchmen?"  went  on 
Hugh. 

"They  looked  Spanish,  and  I  addressed  them  in  that 
language,  which  I  speak  only  indifferently  well;  but 
it  proved  that  I  was  right,  for  they  replied  in  the  same 
tongue." 

Hugh  translated  the  conversation  for  the  benefit  of 
Mr.  Murray,  whose  curiosity  was  at  last  satisfied;  but 
not  so  mine.  I  remembered  very  well  that  Sheila  had 
asked  her  brother  if  he  thought  Gilbert  Barr-Simons 

were  a  Spaniard,  and  I  wished  that  he  might  remem- 

98 


Champion 

her,  too ;  but  he  showed  no  sign  of  so  much  as  recalling 
Barr-Simons'  existence. 

I  knew  now  why  Arnaud  had  wanted  an  excuse  to 
be  in  front  of  us  at  this  particular  part  of  the  road, 
but  I  wanted  to  know  more.  I  wanted  to  know  what 
Arnaud  had  really  said  in  Spanish. 

As  for  explaining  that  he  had  fancied  the  men  might 
be  Spaniards,  and  tried  that  language  on  the  chance, 
it  seemed  to  me  all  nonsense;  for  how  could  he  tell 
whether  they  might  not  be  of  some  other  southern 
nation?  I  didn't  believe  that  Spaniards  could  be  told 
at  a  glance  from  Italians,  or  even  Frenchmen;  but 
then,  my  suspicions  were  on  the  alert,  owing  to  what 
I  already  knew  of  Arnaud;  and  perhaps  it  was  not 
unnatural  that  my  Master  and  the  others  let  the  state- 
ment pass  unchallenged. 

Had  I  been  able  to  choose  my  own  pace,  only  shown 
my  way  by  my  Master's  hand  on  the  steering-wheel,  I 
should  have  done  the  whole  journey  in  a  few  hours; 
but  suiting  my  steps  to  puffy  little  Reddy's,  and  stop- 
ping a  long  time  for  lunch,  it  was  nearly  evening 
when  we  reached  the  outskirts  of  a  great  city,  and 
Hugh  cried  "Paris!" 

There  was  no  sound  of  relief  in  his  voice  though," 
rather  the  contrary,  and  I  guessed  why,  for  I  felt 
somewhat  as  he  did.  It  seemed  to  me  that,  though  the 
world  was  a  very  good  world,  and  a  fine  place  to  run 

99 


Champion 

about  in,  it  would  never  be  as  gay  again  if  we  were  to 
lose  sight  of  a  pair  of  big,  gray  eyes,  and  a  crown  of 
waving  hair  with  a  copper  glint  upon  it.  But  we  were 
not  to  lose  them — not  yet,  in  any  case — for  Lia  said  to 
Hugh,  as  we  drove  into  Paris,  that  she  had  made  up 
her  mind  to  be  present  at  the  great  race.  "Dad  thought 
of  stopping  quietly  in  Paris  for  a  while,"  she  said, 
"but  I'll  get  him  to  take  me  wherever  the  race  is  going 
to  be,  and  then  come  back  to  Paris  later." 

"Perhaps  he  won't  consent;  he  doesn't  care  much 
about  motors,"  said  Hugh,  quite  anxiously. 

"Not  consent!"  repeated  the  girl.  "To  something  / 
want?  Why,  what  do  we  American  girls  bring  their 
fathers  up  for  ?  He  mayn't  care  much  about  motors — 
just  yet;  but  he  cares  whole  bushel-basket fuls  for  me. 
And  I'm  going  to  see  that  race!" 

"I'll  look  for  you,"  said  my  Master.  "And  after- 
ward? I'm  not  going  to  lose  you  afterward,  am  I?" 

"Oh,  afterward!  Who  knows  about  the  after- 
ward!" And  Lia  laughed,  as  if  she  enjoyed  teasing 
him  a  little. 

When  the  "afterward"  came,  I  thought  about  those 
words  of  hers,  and  they  rang  through  my  cylinders 
sometimes,  so  that  I  could  hear  nothing  else  for  the 
echoing  sound  of  them;  nothing  else  but  beautiful 
Lia  Murray  laughing,  and  saying:  "Who  knows 
about  the  'afterward'?" 

100 


CHAPTER  VII. 

/  Start  to  Win  the  Cup. 

My  Master  kept  his  Word  to  Lia,  and  slept  on  the 
floor  beside  me,  in  a  private  garage  he  had  hired. 
Next  morning,  early,  I  was  taken  out  and  driven  away 
from  Paris  again.  But  before  we  left  the  great,  gay 
city  we  stopped  under  the  windows  of  a  big  hotel,  and 
my  Master  made  a  little  music  with  my  siren.  That 
must  have  been  a  signal  agreed  Upori,  for  though  it 
was  so  early  that  the  best  shops  were  all  fast  asleep 
still,  one  of  the  windows  flew  open,  and  Lia  Murray 
leaned  out.  She  was  dressed  in  white  and  wore  no 
hat  to  cover  her  copper  hair,  so  she  looked  prettier 
than  ever. 

The  window  Wasn't  very  high  Up,  and  she  called 
down:  "The  best  of  luck  for  to-morrow!  And  Dad 
and  I  are  corning." 

My  Master's  cap  was  off,  and  he  waved  it  once  to 
her.  Then  I  Was  whirled  round  a  corner,  rather  dis- 
appointed, for  I  had  hoped  that  rfty  Master  Would 
drop  Arnaud  and  take  Lia  with  us  again,  as  he  had 
yesterday.  But  I  have  learned  since  that  the  pleasant- 
est  things  are  not  likely  to  happen  twice  in  succession. 

We  ran  out  of  Paris,  through  endless  green  country 

101 


C  n  a  m  p  i  o  n 

— fair,  young  green,  sprinkled  with  blossoms,  pink  and 
white — to  a  distant  town  many  kilometers  south  of  the 
capital,  which  was  to  be  the  starting-point  for  the 
Vandervoorst  Cup  Race.  There  I  was  put  into  an- 
other private  garage,  which  I  had  all  to  myself,  ex- 
cept for  my  Master.  I  heard  Arnaud  offer  to  stop 
with  me  through  the  night  and  relieve  Hugh,  but  the 
promise  to  Lia  was  in  the  way,  and  though  Arnaud 
urged,  and  almost  insisted,  seeming  so  hurt  that  I 
know  Hugh  hated  to  refuse,  still  my  Master  would 
not  yield.  That  made  me  very  hopeful,  and  I  told 
myself  that  the  danger,  whatever  it  had  been,  was  over 
now ;  for  was  not  Hugh  going  to  drive  me  to-morrow, 
and,  if  he  did,  who  and  what  could  prevent  us  from 
winning  ? 

Arnaud  stayed  late  talking  to  our  Master,  and  ap- 
peared again  long  before  it  was  light,  looking  haggard 
and  red-eyed,  as  if  he  had  not  slept  much.  It  was  only 
two  o'clock,  and  black  as  a  pocket,  but  evidently  we 
were  to  start  early,  for  they  began  at  once  to  look  me 
over,  examining  all  my  parts  hastily  yet  thoroughly. 
As  they  oiled  and  rubbed  me,  filling  me  up  with  life- 
giving  petrol,  they  talked  in  tones  which  tried  not  to 
be  excited. 

I  listened  with  eager  interest  as  they  discussed  the 
great  circuit  which  had  been  marked  out  for  the  race, 
a  circuit  where  all  the  competing  cars  were  to  go 


Champion 

round  three  times,  beginning  soon  after  dawn,  in  an 
order  to  be  determined  by  the  drawing  of  lots. 

The  cars  were  to  be  started  at  intervals  of  five  min- 
utes, and  there  would  be  certain  halting-places  called 
controls,  where  times  were  to  be  taken  and  fresh  fuel 
could  be  supplied.  But  I  had  not  heard  half  what  I 
wanted  to  hear  before  I  was  driven  off  to  the  starting- 
point;  and  once  on  the  road  my  Master  and  Arnaud 
fell  into  silence,  as  if  they  were  afraid  of  betraying 
some  emotion  to  each  other  if  they  talked. 

I  had  thought  that  I  was  beginning  by  this  time  to 
know  a  good  deal  of  the  great  world  and  its  phases, 
but  now  I  realized  all  in  a  moment  that  real  life  had 
been  a  closed  book  for  me.  It  was  only  on  this  day — 
with  the  gray,  early  dawn  of  this  day — that  it  had  in- 
deed opened  for  me,  and  opened  at  a  page  full  of 
wonderful  knowledge.  What  would  happen  for  my 
Master  when  the  page  had  turned  over?  Ah!  that 
was  a  question  that  sent  the  petrol  throbbing  to  my 
carbureter. 

Hundreds,  thousands  of  other  people  besides  Hugh 
Cameron  were  thinking  of  this  race,  and  nothing  but 
this  race,  to-day. 

Along  both  sides  of  a  broad,  straight  road  stretched 
a  vast  encampment,  like  a  dream  army  in  the  dim, 
illusive  light. 

Grand  stands,  draped  with  flags,  were  already  be- 

103 


Champion 


ginning  to  fill  with  groups  of  people,  women  as  well 
as  men.  More  motor-cars  than  I  could  count  Were 
drawn  up  on  the  dusty  grass  along  the  straight,  white 
line  of  the  road;  red,  gray,  blue,  green,  and  yellow  mo- 
tor-cars, covered  and  uncovered,  very  grand  new  ones, 
small  battered  old  ones.  Wooden  pavilions  for  re- 
freshment, with  banners  waving,  and  big  boards  dis- 
played, advertising  the  list  of  their  specialties,  towered 
above  the  rows  of  canvas  tents;  and  here  and  there 
were  odd  little  erections  which  later  I  discovered  Were 
offices  for  telegraphing  the  news  of  the  race.  Among 
the  tents  and  the  pavilions  so  closely  ranged  together 
flowed  a  continuous  stream  of  dark  figures,  aimless, 
apparently,  as  the  swarms  of  ants  I  had  seen  ih  the 
country  when  we  rested  to  lunch  or  to  renew  water  of 
petrol;  yet  each  separate  form  had  its  object  and  in- 
terest. 

As  for  me,  I  was  naturally  more  intent  upon  the 
competing  motors — my  rivals — than  upon  any  other 
center  of  the  extraordinary  scene.  I  was  driven  near 
to  them,  and  I  was  astonished  at  the  difference  in 
their  principal  features,  the  difference  not  only  be- 
tween them  and  the  touring  cars  drawn  up  as  spec- 
tators at  a  respectful  distance,  but  at  the  way  in 
which  the  competitors  differed  from  one  another. 
Often  you  would  hardly  have  supposed  they  belonged 

to  the  same  breed. 

104 


Champion 

I  knew  from  all  I  had  heard  that  the  Vandervoorst 
Clip  had  been  offered  especially  to  encourage  invent- 
ors, and  give  an  opportunity  for  the  exhibition  of  rival 
ideas  in  automobile  construction,  but  many  of  the 
creators  seemed  to  have  gone  out  of  their  way  to  make 
their  cars  look  as  fantastic  as  possible,  perhaps  in  the 
hope  of  drawing  public  attention  to  them,  and  thus 
securing  an  advertisement. 

As  we  glided  by  a  nest  of  grotesque  horrors,  gaunt 
and  gray  in  the  dawn,  as  skeletons  of  misshapen  giants, 
I  thanked  my  Master  that  he  had  not  been  minded  to 
fashion  me  in  a  shape  resembling  any  of  these.  There 
were  other  monstrosities,  too,  less  suggestive  of  terrif- 
fic  force,  things  that  tempted  to  sardonic  laughter; 
but  I  did  not  laugh.  As  I  took  Up  my  final  position 
under  a  tree  bearing  a  large,  white  label  marked  with 
the  same  number  my  Master  had  fastened  on  me — 
like  a  big  medal — I  wondered  which,  if  any,  of  these 
silent,  waiting  monsters  would  run  me  closest — per- 
haps even  conquer  me!  But  no,  I  would  not  even 
think  of  defeat.  To  regard  it  as  a  possibility  was  an 
insult  to  my  Master's  skill,  and  his  confidence  in  my 
power. 

I  kept  cool>  Without  a  throb  of  the  valves,  in  the 
midst  of  the  babel  of  voices  talking  rriany  tongues. 
Quietly,  as  if  I  had  no  feeling,  I  watched  the  busy 

coming  and  going  of  owners  and  chauffeurs,  pouring 

105 


Champion 

gurgling  petrol  out  of  tins,  oiling  their  strange  brood 
from  long-nosed  cans,  tightening  up  nuts  and  bolts, 
and  giving  last  anxious  touches  to  their  darlings. 

The  leaden  gray  of  the  first  dawn  was  brightening 
to  pale  silver,  but  still  it  was  not  full  day;  and  now 
and  then  the  weirdness  of  the  scene  was  heightened 
singularly  by  a  brilliant  blue  light  that  would  sud- 
denly break  over  the  sky,  dimming  the  ethereal  hint 
of  coming  sunrise,  and  throwing  sharp,  black  shadows 
on  the  pale  faces  of  the  eager  crowd.  I  wondered  if 
this  could  be  a  queer  kind  of  French  electrical  storm, 
and  was  glad  when  I  heard  my  Master  say  something 
to  Arnaud  about  the  odd  effect  of  magnesium-lights 
used  by  the  photographers  who  snap-shotted  the  scene 
for  publication  in  illustrated  papers. 

There  were  journalists,  too,  among  the  throng — 
journalists  of  all  nations — taking  notes  about  the  dif- 
ferent cars  for  articles  they  were  going  to  write  or 
telegraph.  Two  of  these,  with  books  and  pencils  in 
their  hands,  stopped  to  have  a  look  at  me,  as  a  great 
many  other  people  had,  since  we  arrived  under  the 
white-labeled  tree. 

"Well,  I  never  could  have  imagined  such  a  lot  of 
freak  autos,"  said  one  to  the  other  in  English,  but  not 
English-sounding  English;  "and  this  one  takes  the 
cake.  A  regular  demon!  Just  look  at  this  wild  and 

weird  fan  thing  on  his  nose."     (I  was  wearing  my 

106 


Champion 

aerial  screw  on  this  great  morning,  of  course.)  "What 
the  dickens  can  it  be  for?"  And  the  rude  fellow  had 
the  impudence  to  tap  me  with  his  stylographic  pen; 
but  he  stopped  when  Hugh  gave  him  a  glance — not 
a  frown — but  the  sort  of  glance  which  made  my  Mas- 
ter seem  a  king  looking  at  a  smirking  clown. 

That  offended  the  creature,  I  suppose,  for  as  he 
turned  away,  pretending  to  take  no  further  interest  in 
me,  he  said  in  quite  a  loud  voice  to  his  friend :  "Every- 
body's saying  that  Barr-Simons  is  certain  to  win  with 
a  wonderful  new  car  he's  been  making,  and  keeping 
up  his  sleeve." 

Barr-Simons  indeed!  I  hated  the  man  already  be- 
cause of  what  my  Master  had  said  of  him;  now  I 
hated  him  more  than  ever  for  his  boasting — for  he 
must  have  been  boasting  to  these  newspaper  people; 
and  I  determined  that  I  would  put  out  every  ounce  of 
strength  I  possessed  to  pass  him,  if  he  and  his  car 
came  near  us  on  the  road. 

At  last,  above  all  the  clamor  of  voices  and  the  min- 
gling throb  of  many  motors,  there  soared  lightly  the 
clear  notes  of  a  bugle,  and  immediately  after  a  body 
of  soldiers  came  marching  briskly  by  in  red  trousers 
and  overcoats.  It  was  their  duty  to  form  a  living 
hedge  to  keep  back  the  spectators  from  the  course, 
and  they  took  up  positions  in  a  far-reaching  line,  clear- 
ing the  road  and  pressing  back  without  mercy  the  ex- 

107 


Champion 

cited  spectators  who  surged  round  us,  to  wonder  at 
our  appearance  and  speculate  on  our  points. 

Now  the  moment  had  come;  the  moment  for  which 
I  was  born.  I  stood  there  stripped  to  my  bones,  so 
to  speak,  not  carrying  a  superfluous  ounce  of  weight. 
My  Master,  masked  and  goggled,  was  seated  on  me, 
with  his  firm  hand  on  the  steering-wheel.  He  it  was 
who  had  given  me  my  last  oiling,  because  I  had 
squeaked  a  shrill  warning  when  Arnaud  had  neglected 
to  fill  a  grease-cap  in  one  of  my  wheel-bearings.  All 
was  done.  We  were  ready,  Arnaud  crouched  at  our 
Master's  feet,  to  lessen  that  terrible  wind-pressure 
which  my  propeller  was  made  to  overcome.  I  thought 
that  I  could  feel  his  heart  thump>  thump;  and  I  knew 
that  fits  of  shivering  passed  over  him,  as  a  breeze 
rustles  the  leaves  of  the  poplar-tree. 

Almost  everybody  else  seemed  to  have  some  one 
specially  interested  in  him.  Many  of  the  drivers  had 
friends  who  ran  up  to  shake  them  by  the  hand  at  the 
last  minute;  owners  whispered  words  of  counsel  into 
the  ears  of  chauffeurs  who  were  to  guide  their  in- 
ventions to  success  or  failure;  dainty  ladies,  charm- 
ingly dressed,  early  as  was  the  hour,  picked  their  way 
among  the  machines  to  smile  at  husbands,  brothers, 
or  lovers  Who  were  to  drive  for  the  honor  of  some 
famous  manufacturing  house.  But  not  a  soul  had 

my  Master  to  wish  him  "bon  voyage,"  or  so  it  seemed 

108 


Champion 

at  first.  Just  at  the  last,  however,  as  the  sun  rose 
above  the  horizon  and  sent  a  wave  of  gold  over  the 
landscape,  the  sudden  radiance  lit  up  three  familiar 
faces,  and  I  could  have  snorted  with  joy  at  sight  of 
two  of  them. 

One  was  the  beautiful  face  of  Cecilia  Murray,  who 
was  with  her  father,  but  had  arrived  just  too  late  to 
speak  with  Hugh  before  the  start.  There  she  was, 
however,  true  to  her  word,  as  we  might  have  known 
such  a  girl  would  be;  and  at  some  distance  behind 
her,  too  timid  to  come  forward,  was  my  Master's 
pretty  sister,  Sheila  Cameron. 

She  was  with  a  lady,  still  quite  young,  but  evidently 
a  good  deal  older  than  Sheila,  and  more  a  woman  of 
the  world.  Her  face,  which  might  have  been  very 
handsome  in  girlhood,  had  rather  a  worn,  disappointed 
expression,  and  the  searching  light  of  early  morning 
showed  that  her  color  was  not  genuine,  like  the  flower- 
flush  on  Sheila's  cheeks,  or  Lia  Murray's. 

Sheila  was  prettily,  if  plainly  dressed,  but  her  com- 
panion was  as  wonderfully  arrayed  as  any  of  the  bril- 
liant beings  I  had  noticed  in  the  streets  of  Paris.  Her 
blond  hair  was  puffed  out  under  a  lace  hat  and  ar- 
ranged as  elaborately  as  Mademoiselle  Toinette's  had 
been,  and  she  wore  a  good  deal  of  jewelry;  but  I 
was  glad  to  see  that,  though  Cecilia  Murray  had  no 

jewelry  at  all,  her  costume  was  quite  as  Parisian  and 

109 


Champion 

elegant  as  that  of  Sheila's  companion.  It  would  be 
difficult  for  any  woman  to  surpass  her,  either  in  looks 
or  toilet,  I  reflected  as  proudly  as  if  she  were  my 
property,  or  my  Master's. 

The  light  on  their  faces  and  hair  made  them  gleam 
like  gilded  angels  on  a  cupola,  and  my  Master,  who 
had  been  hoping  to  see  Lia,  perhaps,  caught  sight  of 
her  with  delight,  and  of  his  sister  with  joyful  surprise. 
Whether  he  knew  her  friend  or  not,  I  could  not  tell, 
but  I  have  a  good  memory  for  anything  that  interests 
me,  and  putting  two  and  two  together,  I  imagined 
that  Sheila  must  have  come  to  France  with  Mrs.  Barr- 
Simons,  the  "Edith"  my  Master's  father  had  once 
wanted  him  to  marry. 

He  lifted  his  cap,  and  both  Lia  and  Sheila  waved, 
recognizing  him  in  spite  of  his  goggles.  They  would 
have  come  nearer  if  they  could — at  least  it  was  evi- 
dent that  the  Murrays  tried,  while  probably  Mrs.  Barr- 
Simons  would  not  have  cared  to  wish  her  husband's 
rival,  Hugh  Cameron,  good-speed;  but  it  was  too  late, 
for  the  cars  were  starting,  and  everybody  who  had  a 
seat  in  the  grand  stand  made  a  rush  in  that  direction. 

My  Master  started  me  gently  by  turning  on  the 
switch,  and  I  was  purring  to  myself,  my  fears  of  Ar- 
naud's  treachery  at  last  forgotten;  for  what  could  he 
do  now,  with  Hugh  at  the  helm,  and  every  part  of  me 

in  splendid  righting  trim? 

no 


Champion 

I  knew  that  I  was  working  with  magnificent  rhythm, 
and  I  tried  to  communicate  with  my  Master  by  thrum- 
ming out  his  favorite  air  and  mine,  "The  March  of  the 
Cameron  Men";  but  I'm  afraid  that  he  did  not  realize 
what  I  was  doing.  Nevertheless,  even  if  I  were  not 
a  musical  genius,  I  was  proud  of  myself,  proud  of 
my  terrific  strength  and  velvet  suppleness.  Still,  I 
was  not  conceited,  for  it  was  the  wonder  of  my  Mas- 
ter's art  which  impressed  me — the  art  which  could 
create  a  machine  like  myself,  surpassing  the  wind  in 
swiftness,  yet  obedient  to  the  lightest  touch  on  throttle 
or  accelerator. 

I  began  to  advance  slowly  behind  the  five  other  cars 
which  were  timed  to  start  before  me,  and  my  wonder- 
ful propeller  was  modestly  folded  up  as  I  waited  my 
turn.  The  others,  whose  liberty  to  dash  ahead  without 
delay  I  envied,  were  being  sent  off  at  five  minutes' 
intervals  by  the  waving  of  a  white  flag  in  the  hand  of 
the  official  starter. 

Nearer  and  nearer  came  my  turn.  Now,  I  was 
only  three  from  the  starting-point. 

It  was  broad  daylight,  with  clouds  that  raced  across 
the  sky  in  rivalry  to  us;  and  in  the  grand  stand  that 
rose  tier  above  tier  I  could  see  rows  of  heads,  with 
eager  eyes  gazing  at  us  through  gleaming  field-glasses. 
In  the  central  box,  lined  with  crimson,  stood  the 

President  of  the  French  Republic,  whom  I  recognized 

in 


Champion 

from  a  large  photograph  Arnaud  had  pinned  up  in 
our  old  workshop  at  home,  and  on  his  right  hand 
was  a  visiting  monarch,  a  keen  enthusiast  for  the 
sport  of  motoring.  There  were  other  men  in  the 
box  behind  these  two  great  personages,  but  there  was 
one  by  their  side — on  the  President's  left — who  was 
more  interesting  to  me  than  the  two  rulers.  Lucky 
for  me  that  I  had  seen  his  portrait  and  grown  familiar 
with  the  features,  otherwise  I  should  have  remained 
in  dull  ignorance;  for  though  they  must  have  been 
thinking  intently  of  many  things,  neither  my  Master 
nor  Arnaud  spoke  a  word.  But  I  knew  that  it  was 
no  other  than  Vandervoorst  himself,  the  famous  young 
newspaper  proprietor  who  was  offering  the  cup. 

Only  one  more  car  to  go  now,  and  then  I — I  could 
leap  ahead  for  my  Master's  honor  and  my  own  glory. 
Time  after  time  a  great  "Who-o-o!"  of  wonder  and 
excitement  has  risen  from  the  crowd  as  a  monster 
hurled  itself  forward,  and  with  a  buzzing  as  of  ten 
million  bees  vanished  into  a  cloud  of  dust. 

The  flag  waved,  and  away  rushed  the  gray  dragon 
in  front,  his  gearing  giving  forth  a  high,  singing 
scream  as  he  sprang  off  down  the  course. 

I  moved  up  to  the  official  with  the  flag,  who  stood 
with  his  arm  raised,  and  his  cold  eyes  fixed,  not  on  me, 
but  on  a  chronometer. 

My  piston-beats  kept  time  with  its  ticking.  I  counted 

112 


Champion 

each  second  as  it  dropped  into  the  past.  Why  did 
my  Master  not  unfold  my  propeller?  I  wondered. 
How  could  he  expect  me  to  astonish  the  world  as  he 
meant  me  to  astonish  it,  if,  like  others,  I  had  to  fight 
with  the  detaining  hands  of  the  air  pressing  me  back, 
refusing  to  give  way  save  when  my  desperate  strength 
flung  them  off,  and  left  them  clawing  hopelessly  at 
my  sides  as  I  ran  between?  Suddenly,  however,  he 
pressed  the  little  lever  that  actuated  my  aerial  screw, 
and  bade  me  turn  my  superfluous  energy  to  driving  it, 
as  I  would  have  begged  him  to  do  if  I  could  have 
spoken.  Joyously  I  set  the  propeller  revolving  with 
the  speed  which  the  wind  boasted.  I  seemed  to  stand 
in  a  tunnel-like  vacuum,  down  which  my  wild  impulse 
was  to  rush  with  the  breath  of  fire  itself. 

A  ringing  shout  went  up  from  the  spectators  in  the 
stands  when  they  saw  this  astonishing  new  thing,  an 
automobile  calling  to  its  aid  its  arch  enemy,  the  air. 
The  white  flag  fell  like  a  great  flower-petal.  Now — 
now — at  last — with  life  as  the  stake! 

The  faithful  clutch  expanded  its  rings  within  my 
fly-wheel,  and  I  accepted  its  embrace  with  rapture.  So 
swiftly,  so  vehemently  did  I  dash  down  the  tunnel- 
vacuum,  that  in  a  piston-beat  all  the  hubbub  and  the 
wild  cheers  had  died  into  silence,  as  if  behind  a  shut 
door,  and  we  were  far  away  on  the  long,  white  road. 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
/  Do  What  I  Can. 

As  I  drank  the  air  which  strove  in  vain  to  conquer 
me,  I  was  no  longer  a  machine  made  by  man;  I  was 
a  throbbing  embodiment  of  man's  genius,  doing  what 
man  could  not  do.  I  was  matter  informed  by  mind — 
the  mind  of  my  beloved  Master.  Existence  was  flight ; 
and  flight  was  an  ecstasy  made  up  of  strength  and 
speed. 

Before  me  I  saw  a  moving  pillar  of  dust,  and  knew 
it  hid  the  car  sent  off  by  the  white  flag  five  minutes  be- 
for  me.  Five  full  minutes'  start  had  it  had,  but  I 
was  gaining  on  it  more  and  more  with  every  second. 

Suddenly  the  great  white  cloud  flashed  round  a 
curve  between  our  road  and  another,  a  bend  like  that 
of  a  hook  or  a  woman's  hairpin.  A  moment  later, 
and  we  were  at  the  same  place,  I  tearing  on  at  my 
maddest  speed.  To  round  the  bend  at  that  pace  was 
impossible.  Instinctively  I  felt  that  centrifugal  force 
would  hurl  me  from  the  track,  that  my  wheels  would 
not  bear  the  violent  wrench  of  such  a  sudden  change 
in  direction.  I  could  not  have  stopped  myself,  even 
to  save  my  dear  Master's  life  and  honor.  I  believed 
that  the  end  had  come;  that  instead  of  winning  the 

114 


Champion 

race  for  him,  in  a  second  more  I  should  have  killed 
him  and  Arnaud  and  dashed  myself  to  pieces. 

But  I  had  reckoned  without  his  experience  and 
presence  of  mind.  I  might  have  known  that  he  would 
not  let  me  come  to  grief  at  the  first  or  any  other  turn- 
ing. We  were  close  upon  the  terrible  curve  when  the 
clutch  relaxed  its  iron  grip  on  my  fly-wheel,  my  mo- 
tor's wild  tendency  to  race  was  benignly  checked  by 
the  governor,  ever  on  the  alert  to  prevent  me  from 
straining  my  mechanism;  then,  with  a  sudden  twist  of 
the  steering-wheel,  we  were  safely  round  the  bend 
and  flying  on  again  at  full  speed,  as  if  there  had  been 
no  check. 

I  purred  my  triumph  at  the  exquisite  piece  of  steer- 
ing and  judgment;  and  to  the  spectators  who  lined 
this  dangerous  bit  of  road,  no  doubt  with  the  morbid 
hope  of  seeing  some  terrible  accident,  it  must  have 
seemed  the  work  of  magic;  for  the  slight  slackening 
of  speed  would  hardly  have  been  visible  to  an  on- 
looker. 

A  sigh  of  relief — or  was  it  disappointment? — 
whistled  from  five  hundred  throats  as  we  shot  past — 
a  tribute  wrung  from  humanity  in  spite  of  itself;  and 
I  gloried  anew  in  my  Master. 

Once  round  the  corner  we  gained  faster  than  ever 
on  the  car  in  advance,  which  was  making  such  a  brave 
fight  that  I  was  sorry  to  humiliate  it;  but  I  had  my 


Champion 

Master's  fortune  to  think  of,  and  this  was  no  time  for 
sentiment,  so  I  ran  my  best. 

The  lilting  of  our  siren,  worked  by  Arnaud,  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  the  chauffeur  in  front;  for 
he  spoke  to  his  master,  and  reluctantly  the  car  swerved 
a  little,  giving  us  the  narrowest  space  possible  in 
which  to  pass,  if  pass  we  must. 

I  could  hardly  see  through  the  dust-storm,  and  dust 
mingled  with  the  taste  of  my  petrol ;  but  I  plunged  into 
the  white  cloud  and  rushed  through  it,  stones  and 
gravel  dashing  high  in  air  and  showering  on  my  body. 
I  slipped  past  as  a  comet  tears  down  a  blue  slope  of  sky, 
leaving  the  planets  seemingly  motionless.  Thus  seemed 
the  car  I  had  almost  grazed  but  a  moment  ago;  and 
I  could  not  have  told  its  shape  or  recalled  the  features 
of  the  two  bent  goblins  who  rode  it,  their  chins  pushed 
upward  by  the  wind  of  their  own  passage. 

Now  there  was  a  long  gap  between  me  and  the  first 
adversary  I  had  conquered.  Far  ahead  I  could  see 
the  next  screened  in  its  own  blowing  curtain  of  dust. 

The  course  selected  for  this  race  was  the  most  dif- 
ficult it  is  possible  to  conceive.  No  experienced  motor 
could  remember  it  without  a  shudder.  To  dream  of 
running  over  it  at  full  speed  was  enough  to  demag- 
netize your  coil.  The  terrible  white  road  plunged 
down  into  valleys,  and  lassoed  itself  over  mountains; 

here  and  there  it  turned  on  itself  like  a  boomerang, 

116 


Champion 

and  most  of  its  bridges  were  set  at  right  angles.  It 
had  every  trick,  every  whim  that  a  race-course  could 
have,  and  it  offered  a  supreme  test  of  construction  and 
material,  as  well  as  driving. 

My  nightmares  now  often  repeat  this  road  in  cine- 
matographic pictures,  and  I  wake  feeling  as  if  the 
petrol  had  congealed  in  my  carbureter.  After  that 
first,  murderous  hairpin  bend,  came  a  great  white 
shoulder  of  a  hill,  and  I  rushed  at  it  like  a  mad  thing. 
Half-way  up  was  the  car  that  had  flitted  under  the 
flag  ten  minutes  before  me,  and  I  passed  it  as  if  it 
were  a  mile-stone.  Two  enemies  whistled  down  the 
wind,  but  the  third  was  to  prove  more  formidable. 

I  had  noticed  her  for  her  strange  wasplike  shape, 
before  starting.  Now  I  spied  her  far  ahead,  winding 
gracefully,  yet  with  sleuth-hound  swiftness,  down  into 
the  green  bowl  of  a  valley.  As  I  swooped  after  her, 
almost  leaving  earth  in  the  stride  I  took,  I  heard  my 
Master  open  his  lips  for  the  first  time  since  we  made 
ready  to  start. 

"Barr-Simons,"  he  said,  almost  more  as  if  he  were 
speaking  to  himself  than  to  Arnaud. 

I  had  thought  until  this  instant  that  I  could  not  de- 
sire success  more  keenly  than  I  did;  but  now,  at  the 
sound  of  that  name,  a  flame  seemed  to  spring  into 
life  in  my  heart,  a  flame  which  must  devour  me,  if  I 
could  not  pass  Barr-Simons  and  laugh  him  down* 

M 


CHAPTER  IX. 

/  Find  Out  What  Arnaud  Meant. 

With  throttle  wide  open  I  raced  down  the  hill. 

Barr-Simons'  car  had  dipped  to  the  bottom  of  the 
valley,  wheeled,  and  begun  to  speed  up  the  slope. 

We  saw  it  now  from  below ;  and  the  driver  guessed, 
or  I  fancied  he  guessed,  who  had  outdistanced  the 
two  that  had  intervened  between  him  and  his  great 
rival.  The  set  of  his  shoulders  as  he  crouched  over 
the  wheel  seemed  to  say  that  his  whole  soul  was  bent 
on  defeating  the  only  man  he  feared. 

I  gained  on  him  unfailingly.  The  wind  was  his 
enemy,  but  I  had  tamed  it  to  be  my  friend.  Soon  we 
were  in  his  dust,  and  my  siren  imperiously  called  on 
him  to  give  way.  For  a  moment  we  were  separated 
only  by  the  length  of  our  engines;  the  next  we  raced 
radiator  to  radiator,  the  other  car  laboring ;  then  with 
a  leap  I  bounded  ahead,  and  a  second's  space  was  the 
space  of  ten  yards  between  us.  I  had  taken  Barr- 
Simons'  road  for  my  Master,  and  he  was  forging, 
beaten,  in  our  rear. 

The  song  of  the  conqueror  sang  in  my  cylinders  as 
I  saw  before  me  a  great  crimson  flag  that  bore  the 

word  "Control." 

118 


Champion 

We  slowed,  we  stopped;  the  center  of  a  cheering 
crowd.  There  were  interested  officials  with  stop- 
watches and  books.  Questions  were  asked,  entries 
made,  and  in  the  midst  of  all  up  came  Barr-Simons 
on  his  car,  as*  much  of  his  face  as  showed  beneath  the 
goggles  dead  white  under  its  mask  of  dust. 

At  the  control  Barr-Simons  had  a  little  army  of 
mechanics  to  do  him  service.  Some  poured  pailsful 
of  water  over  his  hot  tires,  others  flung  themselves  on 
the  ground  and  peered  under  the  car  in  search  of  loose 
bolts,  while  several  men  busied  themselves  in  handing 
their  master  and  his  chauffeur  sandwiches  and  cool 
champagne. 

Every  one  in  the  automobile  world  knew  the  great 
Barr-Simons,  and  many  clustered  round  his  car,  pay- 
ing it  and  its  driver  compliments,  wishing  both  suc- 
cess for  the  following  rounds  of  the  race. 

As  for  us,  the  moment  that  the  millionaire  maker 
of  motors  appeared  on  the  scene  we  were  forgotten, 
left  to  stand  in  isolation ;  but  it  was  a  proud  isolation, 
and  I  was  glad  to  feel  that  my  Master,  friendless,  was 
happier  at  this  moment  than  Barr-Simons  among  all 
his  flatterers.  For  Arnaud,  perhaps,  it  was  a  differ- 
ent story ;  but  now  that  I  believed  him  thwarted  I  had 
few  thoughts  to  spare  for  him. 

He  had  no  obsequious  helpers  when  he  jumped 

down  to  look  me  over,  and  see  that  I  was  not  ruptured 

119 


Champion 

or  strained  in  any  part.  No  waiting  mechanics  buzzed 
round  us  like  bees.  After  all,  this  was  only  the  first 
round,  as  I  heard  a  sympathizer  reminding  Barr- 
Simons.  And  if  there  were  some,  in  their  hearts,  se- 
cretly pleased  because  an  unknown  had  dared  to  come 
in  before  the  famous  man  with  his  latest  invention, 
none  dared  to  show  it  openly  in  his  presence.  Eyes 
glanced  at  me  furtively,  more  in  dread  than  in  satis- 
faction, after  the  first  impulsive  cheering  for  us  died 
down  at  Barr-Simons'  approach. 

But  it  was  time  to  go  on.  The  flag  dropped,  and 
we  rolled  through  the  control  at  a  foot  pace,  watched 
by  the  experts,  numbers  of  whom  ran  with  us  to  the 
far  end.  What  they  thought  when  they  saw  my  pro- 
peller put  in  motion  once  more,  whirling  me  on  with 
the  velocity  of  a  cannon-ball,  I  shall  never  know,  for 
I  had  left  them  as  far  behind  as  if  they  were  in  another 
world  before  they  had  time  to  utter  a  cry  of  wonder; 
but  if  I  forgot  them  soon,  I  do  not  think  they  forgot 
me  as  easily. 

As  if  on  wings  of  fire,  I  flew  through  reach  after 
reach  of  the  changing  country,  which  formed  the  im- 
mense arena  of  this  splendid  conflict.  But  I  had  made 
a  resolve  and  kept  it :  Barr-Simons  did  not  come  near 
to  me  again  as  I  sped  on;  and  when,  at  length,  we 
came  in  sight  of  the  starting-point,  where  thousands  of 
spectators  clustered  thick  and  black  as  hiving  bees, 


Champion 

and  stopped  under  the  grand  stand  whence  King  and 
President  looked  down  from  their  crimson  box,  the 
air  was  rent  like  a  lace  veil  by  the  cheers  which  hailed 
my  Master  victor. 

We  had  made  the  round  in  less  time  by  many  min- 
utes than  any  other  competitor,  and  it  increased  my 
pleasure  rather  than  diminished  it,  that  Barr-Simons 
should  be  second,  for  that  fact  but  seemed  to  empha- 
size the  rivalry  in  which  we  had  beaten  him,  and  make 
it  the  more  personal  between  us. 

My  petrol  bubbled  with  joy  and  pride;  and  I  knew 
by  the  way  my  Master  touched  me  that  he  was  thank- 
ing me  for  what  I  had  done.  I  was  glad  that  Cecilia 
Murray  was  there  to  see,  and  Sheila ;  and  I  knew  that 
Hugh  also  was  glad. 

The  second  round  was  like  a  bit  of  history  which 
repeats  itself.  What  I  had  accomplished  before  I 
accomplished  again,  with  my  Master's  unflagging  gui- 
dance; but,  except  that,  as  I  reached  the  spot  where 
I  had  passed  Barr-Simons  earlier  in  the  race,  I  re- 
called something  I  had  been  too  preoccupied  to  notice 
at  the  time;  a  glance  of  fury  directed  through  his 
goggles  for  an  instant,  and  falling  on  Arnaud's  crouch- 
ing figure.  Could  it  be,  I  asked  myself  now,  that 
he  had  expected  something  of  Arnaud  which  Ar- 
naud  had  not  performed  ?  Had  a  promise  been  bought 
from  Arnaud,  which  he  had  failed,  after  all,  to  keep, 

191 


d  h  a  m  p  i  o  n 

either  through  compunction,  or  cowardice,  or  deliber- 
ate intention?  Had  I  been  right  in  thinking  that  a 
plot  to  ruin  me  on  the  day  of  our  drive  from  Dieppe 
to  Paris  had  been  brought  to  nothing  by  Lia's  desire 
for  a  ride  on  me,  and  my  Master's  orders  for  Arnaud 
to  conduct  a  hired  car?  Had  some  new  plan  been 
substituted  in  the  place  of  the  other,  crushed  by  a  girl ; 
and  had  Arnaud  remained  true  to  his  Master,  after 
all — true,  against  all  Barr-Simons'  expectations? 

These  questions  flashed  through  my  cylinders,  but 
flashed  out  again  unanswered,  for  there  was  little 
time  to  think  or  argue.  Action,  action,  was  my  one 
duty,  or  I  should  lose  the  ground  that  I  had  gained. 
So  I  threw  thoughts  behind  me,  as  I  threw  the  miles, 
and  appeared  once  more  at  the  starting-point,  this  time 
far  in  advance  of  any  other  car. 

The  experts  were  stupefied.  From  end  to  end  of 
the  immense  course  the  news  seemed  to  have  spread 
that  something  extraordinary  was  happening;  that  it 
might  be  a  new  era  had  come  for  the  automobile,  ush- 
ered in  by  a  stranger,  an  outsider,  with  a  car  of  his 
own  invention — a  car  whose  importance  could  not  be 
ignored.  Such  speed  as  mine  had  never  before  been 
recorded.  I  had  shattered  the  world's  record.  But — 
the  third  round  was  still  to  come. 

A  chain  made  of  human  links  stretched  the  length 
of  the  course,  or  almost  its  length.  Here  and  there 

122 


Champion 

spectators  clustered  thickly;  elsewhere  they  grouped 
in  twos  and  threes,  and  midway,  where  there  were  no 
steep  gradients,  no  sharp  turns  to  menace  the  racers, 
the  course  was  deserted  for  three  or  four  miles.  I 
had  noticed,  however,  in  making  the  two  first  rounds 
out  of  the  three,  that  at  a  cross-road,  far  short  of  the 
control  with  its  crimson  flag,  a  solitary  spectator  had 
chosen  to  station  himself.  He  had  with  him  a  small 
brown  automobile  of  perhaps  twelve  or  fifteen  horse- 
power, and  as  he  appeared  to  feel  the  liveliest  interest 
in  the  race,  I  had  wondered  dimly  why  he  did  not  se- 
lect a  more  interesting  point  of  view.  When  we  were 
approaching  him  from  afar  off  he  would  dart  out  of 
the  cross-road  into  the  course,  a  field-glass  at  his  eye, 
studying  me  or  my  Master  until  we  were  nearly  upon 
him.  Then  he  would  spring  out  of  the  way,  his  lips 
moving  as  if  with  excited  exclamations. 

I  had  not  troubled  myself  much  about  this  man  and 
his  peculiarities  when  I  made  the  first  two  rounds ;  but, 
having  recalled  that  vicious  look  thrown  by  Barr-Sim- 
ons  at  Arnaud,  it  suddenly  occurred  to  me,  as  for  the 
third  time  the  solitary  spectator  sprang  into  my  path 
with  his  raised  field-glass,  that  his  interest  in  me  was, 
perhaps,  more  keen  than  in  other  cars.  Could  it  be 
that  it  was  a  malign  interest?  That  each  time  as  he 
jumped  back  out  of  danger,  muttering,  he  shared  Barr- 

Simons'  disappointment  ? 

123 


Champion 

As  I  though  of  this,  as  I  saw  him  standing  there, 
far  ahead,  a  small  black  figure  in  the  white  line  of  the 
road,  fear  chilled  me  for  the  first  time  that  day.  It 
was  as  if,  while  I  ran,  a  vast  weight  of  cold  metal  had 
fallen  upon  me,  and  I  was  obliged  to  bear  the  burden 
as  I  kept  up  my  full  speed. 

To  my  Master  that  small  dark  figure  was  evidently 
of  no  importance.  He  kept  me  to  the  middle  of  the 
road,  as  if  the  man  did  not  exist.  "One  moment 
more,"  I  said  to  myself,  "and  we  shall  have  passed  this 
place;  I  shall  know  then  that  my  fear  meant  nothing. 
Surely  Arnaud  will  keep  true,  after  all.  Soon  we  shall 
have  won  our  full  victory;  soon  they'll  be  cheering 
themselves  hoarse  for  us  at  the  grand  stand." 

I  rushed  at  the  black  figure,  expecting  it  to  leap 
aside,  but  before  I  reached  it  I  knew  that  something 
terrible  was  happening.  There  came  the  thud  of  a 
heavy  blow;  there  was  a  broken  cry  which  sounded 
like  horror  and  surprise,  rather  than  pain.  The  firm 
hand  on  my  steering-wheel  faltered;  I  swerved,  and 
though  it  was  but  for  the  briefest  fraction  of  a  second, 
I  knew  that  black  treachery  had  been  at  work.  I  knew 
that  another  hand  guided  me,  the  hand  of  a  villain, 
a  murderer,  perhaps,  and  that  now  it  was  bidding  me 
slow  down. 

So  quickly  had  disaster  fallen,  that  for  a  piston- 
beat  it  was  instinct  rather  than  knowledge  which  told 

1*4 


Champion 


me  that  it  had  come.  Then  I  saw,  as  well  as  heard 
and  felt. 

My  Master  was  drooping  unconscious  over  the 
steering-wheel.  Arnaud  was  flinging  away  a  sand- 
bag with  one  hand,  while  with  the  other  he  directed 
me,  his  jaw  falling,  his  face  sickly  white. 

There  were  only  two  thoughts  left  in  the  dark  chasm 
where  treachery  had  plunged  me  from  the  bright  pin- 
nacle of  triumph;  that  my  Master  was  dead,  and  that 
I  must  save  his  secret,  at  the  same  time  avenging  him 
by  killing  Arnaud.  As  for  myself,  what  did  anything 
matter  now  ?  There  was  no  world  for  me  without  my 
Master ;  and  there  was  a  wild  joy  in  the  determination 
to  end  my  life  with  his,  to  batter  myself  out  of  recog- 
nition so  that  the  plotters  should  not  profit  by  their 
crime. 

Before  the  murderer's  shaking  hand  could  steady 
me,  I  leaped  off  the  road,  and  hurled  myself  at  a  dust- 
white  plane-tree  growing  alongside.  I  saw  horror 
blanch  the  face  and  glaze  the  eyes  of  the  solitary 
watcher;  I  heard  Arnaud's  cry  of  desperate  fear,  as 
with  all  the  strength  and  presence  of  mind  he  had  left 
he  jammed  on  my  brakes;  then  came  a  shattering 
blow,  which  struck  at  my  own  life  as  well  as  his. 

Next  instant  my  whirling  propeller  was  gashing  the 
gray  bark  from  the  tree-trunk,  and  my  motor,  the 
very  heart  of  me,  seemed  to  crack.  In  my  madness  I 

125 


Champion 

rebounded  from  the  tree,  flung  myself  across  the  road, 
and  turned  on  my  side,  my  wheels  uselessly  spinning 
in  the  air. 

Then,  as  if  through  a  haze  of  blood,  I  saw  my 
Master's  body  lying  in  the  dusty  grass,  motionless, 
as  it  had  lain  by  my  side  in  blessed  sleep  many  a  time 
in  the  happy  past,  when  he  had  guarded  me  by  night. 
Now  he  could  guard  me  no  more.  I  had  failed  to 
save  him,  though  I  would  have  given  my  life  a  hun- 
dred times  over  for  his.  All  I  could  do  I  had  done,  for 
I  felt  broken  to  pieces,  ended  forever;  and  no  prying 
eye  could  tell,  I  hoped,  how  he  had  made  me.  As  for 
Arnaud,  if  I  had  not  killed  him,  I  must  have  come 
near  it,  for  I  had  thrown  him  far  away,  out  of  my 
sight.  I  was  glad  of  that,  at  least.  My  engine  stopped, 
and  I  believed  that  my  life  was  stopping,  too. 


126 


CHAPTER  X. 

/  Suffer  All  Things. 

There  was  an  interval  of  blankness,  like  being  swal- 
lowed up  in  a  wave  or  a  thick  cloud  of  dust.  Then 
came  a  dull  consciousness  of  continued  existence,  and 
I  heard  Arnaud's  voice. 

He  was  alive,  then!    My  vengeance  had  failed. 

Soon,  in  a  blurred  way,  I  saw  him — a  sorry  figure, 
bending  limply  over  me,  looking  half  his  size  as  he 
humped  his  thin  shoulders  and  nursed  a  wounded  arm. 

His  goggles  and  cap  were  off,  and  the  red  graze  on 
the  side  of  his  face  where  the  skin  had  been  scraped 
away,  the  trickle  of  blood  that  ran  over  his  eyes,  and 
the  sick  look  of  pain  that  distorted  his  mean  features, 
brought  me  some  small  consolation. 

My  Master's  body  lay  as  I  had  seen  it  at  first;  but 
the  man  who  had  watched  from  the  cross-way  was 
busy  with  a  couple  of  others  who  came  I  knew  not 
whence  in  righting  me  on  the  road.  At  the  same  mo- 
ment I  heard  the  whir  of  an  approaching  motor,  and 
immediately  I  caught  sight  of  Barr-Simons  in  his  car. 
He  tore  past  us,  unheeding,  or  so  it  might  have  seemed 
to  one  uninitiated;  but  I  read  the  meaning  of  his  brief 

glance,  his  bitten  lip,  and  the  sigh  that  heaved  his 

127 


Champion 

shoulders.  Barr-Simons  was  rushing  on  to  snatch 
the  victory  he  had  stolen  from  my  Master,  and  he 
would  not  pause  for  a  second,  lest  he  should  lose  the 
full  glory  of  success.  He  had  been  far  behind  us,  but 
there  was  nothing  to  prevent  him  from  coming  in  first 
now. 

How  I  hated  him !  How  I  wished  that  I  could  have 
put  him  in  my  Master's  place.  It  would  be  something 
to  live  for  if  I  might  punish  him  yet. 

The  men  who  had  set  to  work  at  righting  me  did 
not  take  long  about  their  task.  They  were  dressed 
like  French  peasants,  but  they  had  a  lifting- jack  and 
ropes,  which  I  guessed  had  been  taken  from  the  car 
in  the  cross-road;  and  they  had  such  skill  that  it 
would  have  been  folly  to  suppose  them  amateurs. 
They  worked  quickly  and  silently,  only  pausing  now 
and  then  to  see  if  another  racer  were  in  sight;  but 
before  the  next  appeared  they  had  finished  and  hustled 
most  of  their  implements  away.  When  the  motor  that 
followed  Barr-Simons  had  passed,  there  was  nothing 
to  see  save  a  little  group  of  peasants  collected  round 
a  battered  car  that  had  come  to  grief  and  spilt  its  pas- 
sengers. 

The  man  who  had  watched  manifested  the  greatest 
interest  in  me  and  the  extent  of  my  injuries;  but 
when  Arnaud  limped  to  the  still  form  of  my  Master 
and  bent  over  it,  half -fascinated,  half-frightened,  the 

128 


Champion 

that  meant  some  new  emotion,  like  surprise  or  fear, 
the  crying  abruptly  ceased. 

"Let  me  go!"  I  heard  her  gasp.  "I  want  to  die — 
oh,  I  want  to  die." 

Some  one  else  had  come,  then — some  one  who  was 
in  her  way. 

"Why  should  a  girl  like  you  want  to  die?"  asked  a 
man's  voice  heavily.  And  my  interest  grew,  for — 
I  could  not  be  mistaken — it  was  the  voice  of  the  man 
who  had  come  to  visit  Barr-Simons. 

"Because  I  am  miserable,"  answered  the  woman. 

"Because  there's  nothing  else  left  to  do.  Let  go  my 
arm.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  you  it  would  have  been 
all  over  now." 

"It  wouldn't,"  said  the  man  gloomily.  "Your  agony 
would  be  just  beginning.  You  would  be  struggling 
there  in  the  river." 

So  a  river  ran  under  the  window  at  the  back  of  the 
garage,  and  it  was  a  lonely  spot,  or  people  would  not 
choose  it  to  come  and  drown  themselves. 

"Don't  talk  of  the  agony;  that  only  makes  every- 
thing so  much  worse;  for  sooner  or  later  I  must  do 
it,"  wailed  the  woman.  "And  I  am  a  coward.  You 
don't  know  what  trouble  like  mine  is,  or  you  would  un- 
derstand." 

"Maybe  not,"  said  the  man;  "but  I  do  know  that 

trouble  like  mine  is  more  than  I  can  bear;  and  since 

161 


Champion 

you  can't  understand,  I'll  tell  you  this:  when  I've  done 
something  else  which  I'm  waiting  here  to  do,  my  idea 
is  to  end  all,  as  you  were  just  going  to  end  it." 

"How  strange — how  terrible!"  cried  the  girl,  the 
dulness  gone  out  of  her  voice,  which  was  singularly 
sweet  and  flutelike,  "that  you — that  I — should  both  be 
at  this  spot  at  the  same  time,  for  the — the  same  er- 
rand! But — since  you  tell  me  this,  why  did  you  stop 
me?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  man ;  "a  kind  of  instinct,  I 
suppose,  that  outlasts  most  things  in  one's  nature :  the 
instinct  to  protect  a  woman." 

"You  have  done  me  no  kindness,"  said  the  girl,  "and 
yet — I'm  glad  we've  met,  glad  we've  talked.  At  such 
a  dark  moment,  when  there's  nothing  to  do  but  end 
life,  there's  a  dim  kind  of  comfort  in  having  human 
sympathy — at  least,  if  you're  a  coward  like  me." 

"I'm  a  coward,  too,"  the  man  answered,  "but  it  isn't 
death  I'm  afraid  of;  it's  life." 

"I'm  afraid  of  both.  But  it's  doing  me  good  to  tell 
you.  Does  it  help  you  to  speak  like  this  to  me?" 

"Yes.  I  don't  know  why,  but  it  does.  The  best 
thing  I  ever  had  in  my  past  life  was  a  sister.  She 
was  about  your  age  when  she  died — twenty." 

"I'm  twenty-four.  How  extraordinary  we  should 
be  telling  each  other  such  things !  Fifteen  minutes  ago 

we'd  never  seen  each  other,  and  in  fifteen  minutes 

162 


Champion 

more,  perhaps,  we'll  be  where  we  can  never  see  any- 
thing earthly  again.  Your  being  English,  and  my  be- 
ing English — both  making  up  our  minds  to  die  in  this 
forlorn  place,  far  from  home,  seems  more  than  a  coin- 
cidence. It  is  as  if  there  were  some  Fate  in  it." 

"There's  Fate  in  everything,  according  to  my  idea," 
said  the  man.  "My  Fate  has  been  an  evil  one,  dogging 
my  steps  always,  for  years.  Queer,  if  I  should  have 
something  to  thank  the  brute  for,  just  at  the  last!" 

"For  me,  you  mean?" 

"Yes.  For  letting  the  condemned  criminal  warm 
his  hands  for  a  minute  before  his  execution." 

"What  a  curious,  frank  mood  it  puts  you  in  to  be 
about  to  die — to  have  to  come  to  the  end  of  all  things, 
and  be  standing  on  the  edge  of  the  world,  looking  over 
—doesn't  it?" 

"Looking  over — into  what?" 

"Oh,  I  daren't  think.  I  used  to  be  quite  religious, 
once." 

"I'd  swear  you're  not  a  bad  girl  now." 

"Perhaps  not  so  very  bad.  I've  not  done  any  of 
the  things  that  the  world  absolutely  refuses  to  forgive 
a  woman  in,  anyhow.  But  I've — taken  money  that 
didn't  belong  to  me." 

"So  have  I,"  said  the  man,  and  laughed,  a  queer, 
bitter  laugh.  "This  grows  interesting,  doesn't  it?  A 
fellow-feeling  ought  to  make  us  wondrous  kind." 

163 


Champion 

"It  has — it  docs.  Of  course  you  didn't  steal  in  any 
vulgar,  common  way,  and  neither  did  I.  I  should  hate, 
somehow,  for  you  to  think  that.  I  held  a  little  money 
in  trust  for  my  younger  sister,  who's  living  with  rela- 
tives in  England,  and — and  I  took  it  to  pay  for  les- 
sons in  singing  from  a  teacher  who  is  rather  celebrated 
— but  I  hate  her  now.  In  a  way,  it's  to  her  I  owe  my 
ruin.  That's  a  long  story,  though;  and  you  and  I 
haven't  time  in  this  world  for  long  stories,  have  we  ?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  the  man.  "I  feel  as  if  I  should 
like  to  hear  yours.  I'm  interested  in  you,  and  every- 
thing about  you.  Don't  go  and  misunderstand  me 
when  I  say  that.  I'm  a  bad  man,  but  I'm  not  danger- 
ous to  you." 

"Oh,  don't  you  suppose  I  was  sure  of  you,  by  in- 
stinct? Otherwise  would  I  have  talked  to  you  as  I 
have  ?  Why,  when  you  weren't  thinking  what  I  meant 
to  do,  I  could  have  jumped  into  the  water  and  escaped 
from  you  as  well  as  from  everything  else  in  life,  if  I'd 
mistrusted  the  kind  of  man  you  were." 

"If  you  had,  I  should  have  jumped  in  after  you." 

"To  die  with  me?" 

"No,  to  save  you.  I  don't  know  why,  as  I  said  be- 
fore. A  man's  instinct  again.  Shall  I  tell  you  what 
I  did?  I  forged  a  check.  But  that  isn't  why  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  the  end  must  come — to-night." 

"There  are  more  things?" 

164 


Champion 

"Several  more.  But  they  would  make  a  long  story, 
too,  a  good  deal  longer,  and  a  good  deal  darker  than 
yours,  I  expect." 

"I  should  like  to  hear  it." 

"Would  you?  As  much  as  I  would  yours?  Well, 
perhaps  we  shall  meet  again — beyond  the  river,  and 
tell  each  other  things — somewhere.  Not  that  there'd 
be  much  remembering  days  of  joy  when  misery  is  at 
hand." 

"Oh,  you  read  Dante?" 

"I  used  to.     Poor  Paolo  and  Francesca!" 

"Another  bond  in  common.  I  studied  the  role  of 
Francesca  for  an  opera  Madame — my  teacher — had 
written.  She  used  to  say  I  would  make  a  success  in 
it.  Cruel,  cruel !  Oh,  come,  let  us  die,  and  get  it  all 
over.  Will  you  help  me  to  die — friend?" 

"No!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  can't.  I  can't  do  that. 
And  I  can't  stand  by  and  see  you  do  it.  I'll  tell  you 
what  I  will  do.  I'll  go  first.  Perhaps — when  you've 
seen  me  go,  you'll  feel  that  rather  than  follow  by  the 
same  dark,  cold  way,  you'll  wait  a  bit,  and  try  to  find 
something  in  life  worth  living  on  for,  after  all." 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  her  voice  breaking  into  sobs  again. 
"You  mustn't — you  mustn't!  I  couldn't  see  it — I 
couldn't  bear  it.  It  would  drive  me  mad.  Don't  make 
me  die  mad." 

"What  is  to  be  done,  then?"  he  asked. 

165 


Champion 

"I  don't  know.  We  might  part,  and — and  neither 
of  us  see  the  other's  end." 

"Would  you  prefer  that?" 

"It  seems  horribly  desolate  now,  after — making 
your  friendship  and  having  your  sympathy." 

"To  me  the  same.  Yet  what  else  is  there  for  us, 
since  you  won't  let  me  go  first?  You  must  leave  me 
here." 

"No,  if  one  is  to  be  left,  it  must  be  I.  There's  no 
other  place  where  I — where  it  can  happen  so  easily. 
This  towing-path  isn't  far  from  the  house  where  I  was 
living." 

"I  can't  leave  you  here,  unless  you're  going  to  fol- 
low me  into  the  water — for  there's  something  I'm 
bound  to  do  at  this  place  before  I  say  good-by  to  the 
world." 

"Something  you're  bound  to  do  ?" 

"A  revenge  I  have  to  take  on  a  worse  villain  than  I 
am.  I'd  better  not  tell  you  more." 

"Yes,  tell  me." 

"I'm  going  to  set  fire  to  this  garage." 

"What  garage?" 

"This  little,  new,  white-plastered  building  whose 
wall  you're  leaning  against.  I've  waited  here  for 
hours  till  it  should  be  so  late  that  there'd  be  no  one 
about  to  give  the  alarm  and  save  the  place.  I  want  it 

— and  all  that's  in  it — burnt  to  the  ground.     There! 

166 


Champion 

I've  frightened  you,  haven't  I?  You  don't  wish  me 
to  die  with  you  now." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  You  must  have  some  strong 
reason.  You  can't  be  a  bad-hearted  man,  or  even  a 
cold-hearted  one,  or  you'd  have  looked  on  and  let  me 
drown." 

"I  used  not  to  be  bad-hearted.  And  I've  been  find- 
ing out  in  these  last  few  minutes  that  my  heart  hasn't 
turned  to  stone  yet,  as  I  thought  it  had.  You've  made 
me  remember  that  I'm  young  still.  You've  made  me 
remember  some  of  the  things  in  life  I'm  leaving." 

"Yes,  we're  both  young.  The  pity  of  it — the  pity 
of  it!  We  might  have  been  so  happy.  We  had  the 
right  to  be  happy." 

"A  brutal,  cruel  world  has  robbed  us  of  our  rights. 
Heavens,  I  wish  we  could  get  even  with  it!  I  wish 
we  could  tear  from  it  a  little  of  all  it  owes  us,  as  hu- 
man beings  who  didn't  ask  to  be  born." 

"We  won't  be  spiting  the  world  much  in  dying.  We 
shall  be  forgotten.  And  all  the  people  who  are  worse, 
and  luckier  than  we  are,  will  go  on  being  happy." 

"You  make  me  want  to  live — if  only  there  were  a 
way.  But — Jove !  I've  thought  of  a  way !" 

"I'm  glad — for  you;  though  it  leaves  me  alone." 

"It  doesn't.  It  carries  you  along  the  same  road — 
if  you'll  come.  We'll  travel  together — en  automobile." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

167 


Champion 

"I  mean  that  you  and  I — it  sounds  rather  crude,  but 
you  said  yourself  that  Fate  had  brought  us  together 
on  this  spot,  for  the  same  purpose,  at  the  same  hour ;  a 
lonely,  desperate  man,  a  lonely,  desperate  woman, 
from  the  same  country,  stranded  in  a  foreign  land." 

"Yes,  I  said  that.  I  say  it  again,  because  it  seems 
wonderful." 

"Well,  then,  if  we  were  brought  together,  why 
shouldn't  we  go  on  together?" 

"I— I  don't " 

"Why  shouldn't  we  be  married  and  begin  a  career 
which  would  get  us  even  with  the  world  that's  downed 
us  so  far?  You're  not  married  already,  by  bad  luck, 
are  you?" 

"No,  I'm  not  married." 

"I  thought  not;  you  have  the  air  of  a  girl.  I've 
never  been  enough  in  love  with  any  woman,  since  I 
was  out  of  my  teens,  to  ask  her  to  marry  me;  but  I 
have  an  idea  that,  if  you'll  give  me  the  chance,  I  shall 
fall  all  the  way  in  love  with  you.  We'd  never  seen 
each  other  an  hour  ago;  but  most  of  the  people  who 
marry  after  a  year  or  two  of  being  engaged,  can't 
say  more  at  best  than  that  they  were  brought  together 
by  Fate — meant  for  each  other — can  they?" 

"There  is  no  more  than  that;  there  can't  be." 

"Well,  then,  let's  throw  in  our  lots  together  for 

life,  not  death.    Already  I  feel  as  if  having  you  by  my 

168 


Champion 

side  would  give  me  the  nerve  to  dare  anything.  We 
might  have  some  good  adventures,  you  and  I." 

"Have  you  a  plan?" 

"Yes,  I  have.  It  jumped  into  my  head,  full  grown, 
and  dressed  from  head  to  foot — armored  to  fight  the 
world.  What  do  you  say?  You  don't  know  me  very 
well;  but  maybe  you  don't  hate  me  so  much  that  life 
with  me  would  be  worse  than  death — choking  out 
your  last  breath  in  this  black  river?" 

"Oh,  I  can't — I  can't  think  of  death  as  I  did.  You 
seem  to  have  half-opened  a  door,  and  shown  me  light." 

"I'll  open  it  wide.  Will  you  go  through  into  the 
light  with  me  ?" 

"Yes !  There  you  have  my  answer,  for  good  or  ill. 
Yes." 

"The  light  won't  be  a  sweet,  soft  light,  like  that  you 
see  in  pictures,  shining  on  the  heads  of  pious  maidens 
who're  saying  their  prayers.  It  may  be  a  lurid  kind  of 
light.  And  there  won't  be  any  prayers.  There'll  be 
reprisals.  Whatever  happens  we  may  get  some  good 
days ;  and  other  people  shall  pay  for  them.  Does  that 
put  you  off?" 

"No!"  cried  the  girl.  "I'm  like  you.  The  world 
owes  me  a  lot.  I'd  love  to  make  it  pay.  And  I'd  love 
to  have  adventures.  I've  dreamed  of  having  them — 
but  I  never  have  yet — except  hateful  ones.  Do  you 

know,  I  like  your  face?" 

169 


Champion 

"So  do  I  yours.  I  suppose  you've  heard  that  it's 
a  pretty  one?" 

"People  have  told  me  so.  But  you  can  hardly  see 
it  in  this  faint  light  of  the  stars." 

"Heaven  send  they're  lucky  stars !  And  my  eyes  are 
good,  if  my  conscience  isn't." 

"Let's  forget  our  consciences  and  be  happy.  I've 
almost  forgotten  what  it  feels  like  to  be  happy." 

"So  had  I  till  a  few  minutes  ago.  I'll  tell  you  the 
plan  that  came  to  me,  and  you  can  judge  whether  it's 
the  sort  you  could  be  happy  on." 

"I  think  I  could  be  happy  on  any  that  would  save 
me  from  that  terrible,  black  water  that  runs  so  fast. 
But  tell  me  the  plan — no,  tell  me  first  your  life  story, 
and  I'll  tell  you  mine.  Let's  save  the  best  part  for  the 
last.  And  the  future  must  be  best,  for  us  both,  since 
the  past  has  been  so  bad." 

"Well — I  said  mine  was  a  long  story;  but  after  all 
it  mayn't  be  long  enough  to  bore  you,  since  you've 
agreed  to  take  me  on,  for  better,  for  worse.  My  peo- 
ple were  gentlefolk — in  a  small  way.  I  had  a  good 
education,  and  I  was  always  fond  of  books.  I  used  to 
be  praised  for  it — but  maybe  they  weren't  always  the 
best  sort  of  books.  My  father  was  a  solicitor.  I  was 
to  have  gone  into  partnership  with  him,  and  I  fell  in 
with  a  racing  set,  and  he  got  so  disgusted  that  he 
chucked  me,  and  said  I  could  go  shift  for  myself.  A 

170 


Champion 

man  I  knew  got  me  a  place  in  Barr-Simons'  factory 
here  in  France.  I  was  secretary  to  the  manager,  and 
my  services  were  valuable,  because  I  always  liked  lan- 
guages, and  had  a  little  German  as  well  as  a  good 
knowledge  of  French  and  Italian — enough  Spanish, 
too,  to  write  a  fair  letter.  Presently  I  was  transferred 
to  England,  and  became  secretary  to  Barr-Simons  him- 
self, in  his  London  office.  Things  were  going  prosper- 
ously with  me,  when  I  got  the  fever  again — the  old 
fever  for  gambling.  I  suppose  it's  in  my  blood.  I 
was  unlucky  when  I  ought  to  have  been  lucky,  and 
tried  to  right  myself  on  the  Stock  Exchange.  I  bor- 
rowed, and  couldn't  pay  back.  I  asked  for  an  advance 
of  salary,  and  was  refused  a  second  one.  Then — well, 
Barr-Simons'  handwriting's  so  fatally  easy  to  copy; 
and  specimens  of  it  were  under  my  eyes  all  day.  I 
was  tempted  and — I  didn't  resist.  I  was  found  out 
— that  was  only  a  question  of  time  when  luck  per- 
sistently turned  its  back  on  me.  Barr-Simons  could 
have  sent  me  to  prison  for  five  years,  if  he'd  liked. 
He  didn't.  Instead  he  made  me  an  offer." 

"That  was  good  of  him,"  said  the  girl. 

"Wait.  He  wanted  my  help  in  ruining  a  rival — the 
sort  of  help  that  a  mouse  might  give  a  lion,  but  im- 
portant all  the  same;  impossible  for  him  to  work  his 
game  without  it.  I  was  to  be  spared  if  I  did  what  he 

suggested,  and  when  it  was  done,  on  the  day  of  the 

171 


Champion 

Vandervoorst  Cup  Race,  I  was  to  be  paid.  The  sum 
wasn't  named,  and  I  was  not  in  a  position  to  bar- 
gain; but  I  was  given  to  understand  that  it  would  be 
enough  to  start  me  in  life  again,  free  of  worry,  free 
of  debt.  As  a  guarantee  of  good  faith  he  made  a 
show  of  tearing  up  and  burning  a  check,  which  he 
said  was — the  check.  I  was  a  fool  not  to  guess  it  was 
a  trick.  Now,  he  not  only  refuses  to  pay  me  a  penny 
for  my  services  to-day,  on  the  plea  that  it  would  en- 
courage me  to  blackmail  him,  but  he  denies  that  I  per- 
formed any  service  for  him,  dares  me  to  tell  any  story 
I  like,  tells  me  that  he's  kept  the  check,  and  threatens 
prison  if  I  try  to  assert  my  claims." 

"What  a  wretch!  I  wish  you  hadn't  helped  him  to 
ruin  the  other  man." 

"He  would  have  been  ruined,  anyway.  I  couldn't 
have  saved  him  by  staying  out  of  the  game.  But  now 
I  can  punish  Barr-Simons  for  his  treachery  to  me, 
and  his  treachery  of  Cameron  at  the  same  time." 

"Cameron  is  the  name  of — the  other  man?" 

"Yes.  Cameron's  chauffeur,  bribed  by  Barr-Simons 
through  a  music-hall  singer  I  had  to  do  some  bargain- 
ing with,  nearly  killed  his  Master  to-day,  and  pre- 
vented his  car  from  winning  the  race.  It  will  pass  as 
an  accident.  The  chauffeur  and  I  were  the  only  ones 
who  saw  what  really  happened.  This  little  garage 

Barr-Simons  ordered  to  be  built  when  it  was  decided 

172 


Champion 

that  the  race  should  be  run  here.  In  it  is  his  own  car, 
which  won,  and  Cameron's  car,  which  ought  to  have 
won.  Cameron's  car  is  badly  smashed.  It  stands  in 
an  outer  room,  and  his  is  in  another,  which  I  believe 
— so  Barr-Simons'  chauffeur's  been  saying — is  locked 
with  a  time-lock,  of  which  the  Master  alone  knows  the 
combination.  It's  like  his  suspicious  nature  to  do  a 
thing  like  that.  You  see  he  believes  everybody  else 
capable  of  doing  what  he  is  ready  to  do  himself.  My 
first  idea  to-night,  as  I  told  you,  was  to  set  fire  to 
the  garage  before  I  died,  and  thus  destroy  Barr- 
Simons'  car,  and  his  chance  of  finding  out  the  secrets 
of  Cameron's  invention,  which  he  has  been  trying  to 
get  hold  of  for  a  long  time.  Now,  I  have  a  different 
idea — an  idea  out  of  which  you  and  I,  as  partners, 
might  squeeze  a  living,  and  make  up  for  the  past." 

"Perhaps,  though,  when  you  hear  all  about  me,  you 
won't  want  me  for — the  kind  of  partnership  you  spoke 
of.  Men  hate  women,  they  say,  who  do  the  things 
they  forgive  each  other.  I've  been  a  governess  here 
— the  usual  English  'Mees' — for  two  detestable, 
spoiled  children,  with  a  disagreeable,  purse-proud 
mother.  She  was  horrid  to  me — treated  me  as  if  I 
were  a  servant — and  it  was  all  I  could  do  to  manage 
those  singing  lessons  for  which  I've  paid  so  dearly, 
three  times  a  week,  missing  my  dinner  to  get  them, 
because  no  other  hour  could  be  spared.  My  one 

173 


Champion 

thought  was  to  succeed  with  my  singing,  and  escape 
from  slavery.  I  shouldn't  have  come  to  this  dull  hole 
to  teach  for  a  mere  pittance,  if  I  hadn't  known  that 
a  great  retired  prima  donna  lived  here,  and  gave  les- 
sons to  a  few  favored  pupils.  Because  that  woman — 
the  children's  mother — was  so  hateful,  I  was  quite 
pleased  when  her  husband  tried  to  flirt  with  me  a  lit- 
tle. It  was  my  revenge.  That  wasn't  nice  of  me — but 
you  can't  think  what  waspish  ways  she  had!  Mon- 
sieur Beringer,  the  husband,  pretended  to  be  interested 
in  my  music,  and  one  day  when  his  wife  had  been  par- 
ticularly loathsome,  he  told  me  that,  if  some  other 
authority  besides  my  teacher — in  whom  he  didn't  seem 
to  believe — pronounced  me  talented  enough  for  grand 
or  even  light  opera,  he  would  use  his  influence  to  give 
me  a  start.  Also  he  would  finance  me  until  I  should 
have  made  my  success. 

"Soon  after  he  told  me  that  Signor  Carvona,  the 
celebrated  tenor,  was  coming  to  sing  in  opera  at  the 
time  when  the  motor-race  'would  bring  thousands 
of  people  to  the  town.  He  said  he  knew  Signor  Car- 
vona, and  would  ask  him  to  try  my  voice.  To-day 
it  was  tried,  and  the  great  singer  gave  me  no  hope 
whatever.  My  teacher  had  deceived  me.  My  voice 
was  nothing — only  a  pretty  little  drawing-room  voice, 
he  called  it.  And  somehow  Madame  Beringer  found 
out  that  her  husband  had  been  flirting  and  making  me 

174 


Champion 

promises  of  what  he  would  do  for  me.  I  think  her 
maid,  a  cat  of  a  woman,  must  have  overheard  and  re- 
peated a  conversation.  Madame  insulted  me  and 
turned  me  out  of  her  house  at  an  hour's  notice,  this 
evening,  and  Monsieur  Beringer  was  too  cowardly 
to  defend  me.  He  tried  to  save  himself  by  swearing 
I  had  worked  upon  his  compassion.  Do  you  wonder 
I  wanted  to  die?  What  was  there  left  for  me,  till 
you  came  and  gave  me  hope?  My  sister's  money 
spent;  no  way  of  getting  it  back;  myself  unjustly 
disgraced ;  no  chance  of  the  career  I'd  counted  on !" 

"Well,  you  shall  have  your  career,"  said  the  man. 

"You  don't  despise  me?" 

"/  despise  you?  Why,  you're  white  against  black, 
compared  to  me.  And  now  you  shall  hear  my  plan." 


175 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

/  Suffer  a  Great  Change. 

So  absorbed  had  I  been  in  the  life-stories  of  these 
two  persons  whom  I  had  never  seen,  that  for  a  little 
while  I  had  forgotten  my  own  despair  in  pitying  theirs. 
But  when  the  man  had  unfolded  to  his  companion  the 
idea  which  was  to  make  their  fortune,  I  saw  that 
henceforth  their  stories  and  mine  were  likely  to  be 
written  on  the  same  pages  in  the  book  of  Fate. 

"I  said,"  he  went  on,  "that  you  and  I  might  take 
the  trail  together  en  automobile.  There,  behind  that 
wall,  our  car  is  waiting  for  us." 

"Mr.  Barr-Simons'  car?"  the  girl  laughed,  a  little 
shamefully,  as  she  questioned  him. 

"No.  We  can't  get  that.  I've  no  dynamite  to  blow 
his  time-lock  to  pieces.  We'll  have  to  be  satisfied  with 
the  lame  duck,  but  it's  a  very  good  duck.  It  may 
turn  out  for  us  as  good  as  the  goose  that  laid  golden 
eggs." 

"You  mean  we're  to  take  it?" 

"Yes." 

"But — you  said  it  was  broken." 

"So  it  is.    But  it  can  go.    There's  no  car  made  that 

I  can't  drive.     I  shall  be  able  to  get  this  one  to  go 

176 


C  Ira  m  p  I  o  n 


shed  grateful  tears  of  petrol  on  her,  if  I  hadn't  been 
afraid  of  spoiling  her  dress.  She  knew  that  I  was  no 
senseless  mass  of  twisted  metal  and  splintered  wood. 
She  honored  and  pitied  me  at  the  same  time,  and  gave 
me  credit  for  the  anguish  I  was  suffering.  "If  only 
it's  fared  better  with  the  owner,  I  shall  be  thankful," 
she  went  on.  "But  I'm  afraid  that  friend  of  Miss 
Cameron's,  whoever  he  is,  may  be  only  trying  to  en- 
courage her.  I'm  sick  at  heart  about  Mr.  Cameron, 
and  for  him,  aren't  you?" 

"Well,  he  was  a  very  fine  fellow,  but  we've  only 
known  him  three  days,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 

"Don't  say  'was,'  as  if  he  had  ceased  to  be!"  ex- 
claimed the  girl.  "How  horrid  of  you,  Dad.  I  don't 
suppose  we'll  ever  see  anything  of  him  after  this, 
whatever — whatever  happens  to  him,  for  we  have  to 
take  our  tour,  and  he'll  be  going  back  to  England 
as  soon  as  he's  well  enough.  By  the  time  we  get 
there,  months  from  now,  of  course  he'll  have  forgot- 
ten us.  But  all  the  same,  I  feel  as  if  I  knew  him  bet- 
ter than  lots  of  other  men  who've  been  calling  on  me 
twice  a  week  since  I  was  a  little  girl.  In  spite  of  what 
Miss  Cameron's  friend  says  about  the  chauffeur,  I 
just  feel,  through  and  through,  that  the  accident  did 
happen  through  foul  play  of  some  kind.  I'd  give  any- 
thing to  find  out  what  it  was,  and  prove  it." 

"When  you  once  make  up  your  mind  a  thing's  so, 

145 


Champion 

not  all  the  king's  horses  nor  the  king's  men  can  make 
you  change  your  idea,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 

"Nor  all  the  king's  automobiles,  either,"  retorted 
Lia  defiantly.  "And  talking  of  automobiles,  I  wish 
I  felt  as  easy  in  my  mind  as  his  sister  seems  to  do 
about  letting  Mr.  Cameron's  car  go  into  that  man's 
garage  till  he's  well  enough  to  take  it  back  himself. 
Suppose  he's  in  the  plot?" 

"Pooh!"  said  Mr.  Murray.  "You're  daft  about 
that  'plot,'  girlie.  The  gentleman's  a  friend  of  the 
family.  Didn't  you  hear  him  call  Mr.  Cameron 
'Hugh'?" 

"Ye-es,  but  that  might  have  been  his  wily  way 
of  getting  round  the  sister.  Even  she  seemed  to  hesi- 
tate at  first  what  to  do.  I  suppose  we  couldn't  offer 
to  take  charge  of  the  car,  could  we?  Say  Mr.  Camer- 
on had  wanted  us  to  do  it  in  case  anything  happened. 
I  believe  he  would  truly  want  it,  you  know,  Dad,  for 
he  trusted  us." 

"We  couldn't  possibly,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  looking 
startled,  as  if  he  were  afraid  that  his  wilful  daughter 
would  commit  him  to  some  course  of  action  before 
he  had  time  to  save  himself.  "We  might  as  well  take 
charge  of  an  elephant.  What  could  we  do  with  the 
thing?" 

"Oh,  hire  a  garage,  and  wait  around  till  Mr.  Cam- 
eron could  give  orders." 

146 


Champion 

"Well,  I  like  letting  you  have  your  own  way,  little 
girl,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  "but  I  must  draw  the  line 
somewhere,  and  I  guess  this  is  the  right  place.  Mr. 
Cameron's  sister  and  her  intimate  friends  are  the 
only  people  who've  got  a  voice  in  the  disposal  of 
his  property,  and  I'm  not  going  to  interfere  or  let 
my  daughter  interfere,  even  to  please  you,  Lia." 

"Oh,  dear,  I  suppose  we  can't,  then,"  sighed  the  girl, 
looking  ready  to  cry.  "But  I'm  just  sick  about  it  all. 
And  I  feel  as  if  we  were  standing  by  watching,  with- 
out raising  a  finger,  while  wicked  wretches  killed  Mr. 
Cameron  and  smashed  his  automobile,  and  buried 
them  both  under  the  leaves  when  nobody  knew  ex- 
cept us.  I  shall  dream  it  was  like  that  hundreds  of 
times  in  the  nights  to  come,  I  know." 

"You'll  forget  all  about  it  when  we're  sight-see- 
ing again,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 

"No,  I  sha'n't.  I'll  never  forget  this  day.  And  if 
I  find  out  I'm  right  I'll  never  forgive  myself  either 
for  not  doing  something — I  don't  know  exactly  what. 
Anyhow,  let  us  go  now  to  the  hospital,  wherever  it 
is,  and  learn  something  for  ourselves  about  Mr.  Cam- 
eron. His  sister's  so  absorbed  in  what  Mr.  Vander- 
voorst  is  saying  she  doesn't  remember  that  we  exist." 

"All  right,  come  along,"  answered  Mr.  Murray, 
showing  by  his  alacrity  that  he  was  glad  to  get  away 
from  the  spot  at  any  price. 

147 


C  h  a  m  p  i  o  fl 


"Just  one  moment!"  exclaimed  Lia.  She  took  a 
step  and  laid  her  hand  gently  on  my  broken  body. 
"Good-by,"  she  said,  "Good-by."  Only  that  one 
word,  murmured  twice  over,  below  her  breath.  But 
it  meant  as  much  as  a  whole  long  sentence  to  me ;  and 
her  soft  tone  and  soft  touch  were  like  balm  poured 
upon  my  wounds. 

Fate  was  against  me,  preventing  her  from  giving 
the  help  she  longed  to  give ;  but  her  sweetness  and  her 
wish  to  serve  me  and  my  Master  made  for  me  all  the 
difference  between  the  cold  despair  of  utter  abandon- 
ment and  the  warmth  of  sympathy.  I  felt  somehow 
redeemed  from  humiliation,  my  self-respect,  at  least, 
saved  from  the  disaster  of  the  day. 

If  only  she  had  known  that  Miss  Cameron's  friend 
was  Barr-Simons  she  might  have  continued  to  fight 
for  me  against  her  father's  opposition,  and  have  con- 
quered it  in  the  end.  But,  even  if  he  had  been  pointed 
out  to  her  by  neighbors  in  the  grand  stand  during  the 
race  when  he  flashed  by  in  his  car,  goggled  and  masked, 
she  could  not  recognize  him  now  from  any  of  the 
other  competitors;  and  neither  Sheila  nor  Mr.  Van- 
dervoorst  had  mentioned  his  name  in  her  hearing. 
There  was  no  motive  to  impel  her  to  insist  further, 
and  there  was  no  resentment,  nothing  but  gratitude 
for  her  kind  intention,  in  the  cold  tunnels  of  my  cyl- 
inders as  she  let  her  father  draw  her  away. 

148 


Champion 

Often  afterward  I  recalled  her  grieved  backward 
glance,  felt  again  the  gentle  pressure  of  her  loyal 
little  hand,  and  heard  the  echo  of  that  "Good-by." 

Vandervoorst  was  still  talking  to  Sheila  of  her 
brother — not  discouragingly,  yet  not  cheerfully — 
when  Barr-Simons  moved  away  and  gave  directions 
that  I  should  be  at  once  towed  to  his  garage.  All 
hope  of  a  rescue  was  over;  and,  though  one  other 
hope  was  left  to  me — that  I  was  too  broken  to  give 
up  my  Master's  secrets — even  that  was  very  faint.  I 
felt  life  strong  within  me  yet,  as  a  sullen  weight  drawn 
by  a  sullen  beast  I  was  dragged  toward  that  realm 
where  Barr-Simons'  power  reigned  supreme. 


149 


CHAPTER  XII. 

/  See  Once  More  the  Man  of  the  Cross-road. 

When  the  gates  of  the  garage  had  shut  upon  me, 
the  awful  sense  of  isolation,  of  helplessness,  was  even 
worse  than  I  had  thought,  and  once  more  I  felt  as  if 
my  cylinders  must  crack  with  my  despair.  It  would 
be  useless  now  for  any  cam  to  try  and  actuate  my 
valves  again. 

But  I  had  had  time  for  a  dozen  changes  of  mood 
before  the  silence  of  the  dark  garage  in  which  I'd 
been  locked  up  and  deserted  was  broken  by  the  sound 
of  a  key  turning.  Then  the  door  opened,  and  I  heard 
a  man's  footsteps.  Some  one  was  moving  about; 
some  one  found  and  switched  on  the  electric  light, 
flooding  the  place  with  a  cruel,  white  glare.  It  was 
Barr-Simons,  and  he  had  changed  into  evening  dress, 
with  which  he  wore  a  decoration  in  his  buttonhole. 
Instantly  I  guessed  that  he  had  stopped  for  a  stealthy 
look  at  me  on  his  way  to  the  grand  dinner  of  which  I 
had  heard  my  poor  Master  speak — a  dinner  given  in 
honor  of  the  victors  in  the  race.  I  guessed,  too,  at 
the  impatience  he  must  have  been  feeling,  and  how  he 
must  have  seized  the  first  chance  of  tearing  from  me 
such  secrets  as  I  might  be  powerless  to  conceal,  and 

150 


IT  WAS  BARR-SIMONS. 


(P.  ISO.) 


Champion 

note  them  for  his  own  guidance,  for  use  before  Hugh 
Cameron  could  recover  from  his  wounds  and  defend 
the  offspring  of  his  brain. 

He  locked  the  door  again  and  hurried  to  me,  like  a 
hungry  wolf  that  scents  a  meal.  "Now  for  you,  my 
beauty!"  he  muttered.  "You  pretty  nearly  did  for 
yourself,  but  not  quite.  It's  your  master  who  suf- 
fered most,  after  all.  By  Jove!  one  would  almost 
think  you  banged  your  head  into  that  tree  on  purpose 
to  spite  me." 

So  that  was  in  his  mind!  I  only  wished  he  knew 
the  truth,  and  that  the  minute  he  learned  it  I  could 
explode  and  tear  him  into  atoms.  His  addressing 
himself  to  me,  as  if  acknowledging  the  fact  that  I  was 
sentient,  seemed  an  added  insult  instead  of  a  valued 
compliment,  as  it  did  from  my  poor  Master,  or  Lia 
Murray.  But  if  I  had  had  the  power  to  destroy  him 
I  would  have  yielded  it  for  the  privilege  of  hearing 
from  his  lips — even  if  the  news  came  with  a  sneer — 
the  truth  about  Hugh ;  whether  he  were  living  or  dead, 
and  whether,  if  he  lived,  he  were  like  to  recover  and 
win  back  his  stolen  honors. 

"You  didn't  quite  succeed,  did  you?"  he  went  on. 
"That  queer  screw  of  yours  I'm  afraid  you've  done 
me  out  of,  you  brute — the  very  thing  I  wanted  to  get 
at,  of  all  others — the  thing  I'd  have  given  a  cool  hun- 
dred thousand  to  have  in  my  hands,  free  of  patent 


Champion 

rights !  But  I  shall  be  able  to  guess  at  it  a  bit,  maybe, 
from  the  mangled  remains,  and  I  shall  measure  and 
weigh  you.  I  shall  find  out  how  Cameron  balanced 
his  weights  to  combine  so  much  strength  with  so  much 
lightness.  I  shall  poke  into  the  secret  of  your  wheels 
for  all  it's  worth,  and  take  it  for  my  own.  I  shall 
know  everything  there  is  to  know  about  your  ma- 
terials :  how  the  fellow  made  your  steels  and  bronzes. 
I'll  have  that  air-cooling  contrivance  that  I've  been 
fussing  over  with  such  disappointing  results  for  a 
whole  wasted  year.  And  what  with  all  you  give  me, 
and  the  help  I'll  buy  from  that  little  sneak,  Arnaud, 
you'll  be  at  my  mercy.  Not  a  thought  of  your  Mas- 
ter's that  I  sha'n't  be  able  to  pass  off  as  my  own  for 
my  next  machine,  thanks  to  pluck  and  business  in- 
stincts." 

"Business  instincts,  indeed!"  I  tried  to  hiss  out 
through  a  small  leak  whence  my  petrol  was  dripping. 
"Business  instinct  spells  bribery  and  murder  with 
you;  just  another  word  for  the  same  thing.  Oh,  if 
only  my  Master  gets  well,  he  may  beat  you  yet.  Oh, 
if  only  my  Master  gets  well !  It  seems  to  me  that  any 
one  who  sees  your  two  faces  would  take  his  word 
against  yours." 

Unfortunately,  he  did  not  understand,  or  he  might 
have  lost  that  temper  of  his,  said  to  be  so  execrable, 
and  have  battered  me  into  worse  condition,  out  of  re- 

152 


Champion 


venge.  He  was  just  about  to  settle  down  to  the  enjoy- 
ment of  such  superficial  examination  as  might  be  made 
by  a  man  dressed  to  go  out  to  a  grand  dinrier,  when 
there  came  a  knock  at  the  door. 

He  muttered  a  word  I  should  not  have  liked  Lia 
to  hear,  and  stood  hesitating  whether  to  answer  or 
not.  But  the  knock  came  again,  this  time  accompanied 
by  a  voice  which  struck  me  as  being  familiar.  For  an 
instant  I  could  not  place  it  in  my  memory,  though 
I  knew  I  had  heard  it  lately;  but  when  Barr-Simons 
unwillingly  decided  to  open  the  door,  with  the  first 
ray  of  white  light  that  plucked  the  newcomer's  face 
out  of  shadow  I  recognized  it. 

The  man  of  the  cross-road  knew  that  Barf-Simons 
was  here  with  me,  and  had  come  to  pay  him  a  visit. 
I  had  seen  him  before,  only  in  his  motor-mask  and 
goggles;  but,  noticing  him  particularly  as  I  had  in  the 
two  first  rounds  of  the  race,  I  had  fixed  iri  my  being 
the  one  feature  I  was  able  to  see  clearly.  That  fea- 
ture was  the  chin,  and  it  was  a  peculiar  one,  cleft 
in  the  middle  with  a  deep  dent.  Also,  I  had  had  the 
impression  of  a  reddish  mustache. 

Now  I  saw  the  whole  face,  but  the  chin  was  still 
the  most  remarkable  part  of  it. 

Compared  to  Barr-Simons,  the  man  was  a  little 
man,  but  he  was  actually  of  about  the  average  height, 
perhaps  looking  smaller  because  he  Was  thiri,  so  thin 

153 


Champion 

as  to  suggest  that  he  might  lately  have  recovered  from 
an  illness,  or  have  suffered  severe  privations.  Stand- 
ing at  the  cross-road,  in  a  thick  motor-coat,  he  had 
looked  a  more  personable  fellow ;  now  there  was  some- 
thing pitiable  about  him. 

"I  followed  you,  Mr.  Barr-Simons,"  he  said.  "I 
knew  you  were  here." 

"So  I  deduced,  from  your  impertinence  in  beating 
on  the  door,"  answered  Barr-Simons,  with  the  same 
cynical  coldness  with  which  he  had  taunted  me  in  my 
helplessness. 

"I  merely  knocked,"  answered  the  other  with  civility, 
but  his  eyebrows  drew  together,  nervously  or  irritably. 
"I  see  no  impertinence  in  that.  You  promised  to 
speak  with  me  as  soon  as  the  race  should  be  over." 

"I  was  occupied  with  more  important  people," 
sneered  Barr-Simons. 

"I  should  have  thought  I  was  rather  important  to 
you,"  said  the  man,  flushing  all  over  his  sharp-fea- 
tured, but  not  ill-looking,  face. 

"Then  you  thought  wrong,"  retorted  Barr-Simons. 
"But  now  you're  here,  what  do  you  want?  Get  it  out 
quickly,  for  I'm  in  a  hurry.  I'm  due  at  the  dinner  in 
twenty  minutes  or  so." 

"What  do  I  want?"  repeated  the  newcomer.  "I 
want  my  pay." 

"You've  had  it." 

154 


Champion 

"What!" 

"You  heard  me,  I  think.  But  I'll  be  more  explicit 
if  you  like.  I  engaged  you,  and  hired  an  automobile 
for  you,  to  watch  a  certain  part  of  the  track,  just  as 
I  engaged  certain  other  men  to  watch  certain  other 
parts,  in  order  to  be  in  readiness  to  give  me  help  if 
I  needed  it." 

The  thin  man  laughed  bitterly,  and  echoed  Barr- 
Simons'  words  again.  "To  give  you  help?  That's 
what  you  call  it,  do  you  ?  Well,  do  you  want  to  know 
what  I  call  it?" 

"Frankly,  I'm  afraid  it  would  bore  me." 

"Then  you  shall  hear  it  whether  you  like  or  not. 
You  had  to  take  me  into  your  confidence,  otherwise 
I  couldn't  have  been  trusted  to  carry  out  instructions 
without  making  some  fatal  blunder.  You'd  paid 
Cameron's  chauffeur  to  bash  him  on  the  head,  in  the 
first  round  of  the  race,  and  I  was  to  take  him  away 
in  my  motor-car,  dead  or  alive ;  but  not  until  I'd  made 
sure  that  his  car  was  safely  in  the  hands  of  your  crea- 
tures— creatures  I'd  engaged  to  do  your  bidding,  so 
that  you — the  great  Barr-Simons  whom  every  one 
must  recognize — shouldn't  have  to  appear  in  the  af- 
fair." 

Gilbert  Barr-Simons  laughed  contemptuously. 

"Who  on  earth  would  believe  such  a  cock-and-bull 
story  as  that,  if  you  were  fool  enough  to  try  and 

155 


Champion 

spread  it?  A  discharged  employee  in  my  works — 
not  only  discharged,  but  discharged  for  dishonesty, 
and  the  proofs  in  my  hands  to  show  to  all  the  world  if 
I  choose  to  crush  you,  instead  of  trying  to  help  you 
back  to  the  right  path,  as  I  have  done." 

As  he  listened  to  these  words,  the  thin  man  stag- 
gered slightly,  as  if  Barr-Simons  had  struck  him  a 
blow.  His  clenched  hands  relaxed,  and  I  saw  beads 
of  sweat  suddenly  sparkle  on  his  forehead  like  grains 
of  diamond-dust  glittering  in  the  white  electric  light 


156 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

/  Overhear  a  Strange  Conversation. 

I  thought  for  a  second  or  two  that  the  unfortunate 
wretch  would  break  down  and  fall  in  a  dead  faint,  but 
he  pulled  himself  together  with  a  supreme  effort,  and 
had  his  eyes  been  daggers  I  should  have  had  the  pleas- 
ure of  seeing  Barr-Simons  lie  dead  beside  my  tires. 

"You  are  the  devil  incarnate!"  the  newcomer  flung 
impotently  at  the  great  man. 

"If  you  had  been  polite  I  might  have  spared  you 
ten  minutes,  for  old  acquaintance's  sake,  and  the  time 
when  I  used  to  think  you  a  fairly  decent  fellow,"  said 
Barr-Simons.  "But  as  you  seem  inclined  to  be  rude, 
I  have  no  more  time  to  give  you.  I  am  going  to  shut 
up  the  garage  now." 

"I  will  have  justice — or  something  like  justice!" 
stammered  the  thin  man,  a  patch  of  red  staining  each 
high  cheek-bone. 

"I  tell  you,  you've  had  all  from  me  that  you'll  get 
in  the  way  of  reward  for  your  small  services,"  Gil- 
bert Barr-Simons  said  icily.  "Best  be  careful,  or  you 
may  look  to  get  something  else — something  that  you'll 
like  less  and  deserve  more  than  anything  you've  had 
yet." 


Champion 

"You'll  give  me  no  more  money?" 

"Not  a  penny.  It  would  be  on  my  conscience  if  you 
turned  blackmailer  as  well  as  forger.  I  have  a  cer- 
tain check  still  in  my  possession." 

"You  lie.     I  saw  you  tear  it  in  pieces  and  burn  it." 

"You  thought  you  saw  all  that.  But  you  didn't 
know  me,  or  you'd  have  distrusted  your  own  eyesight. 
Now  I'm  going  to  dinner." 

"And  I  may  go " 

"Where  you  choose." 

"Provided  I  don't  interfere  with  you?" 

"It  is  impossible  for  you  to  interfere  with  me.  I'm 
a  big  man.  You're  a  little  man — in  more  senses  of 
the  word  than  one." 

"I  was  of  importance  enough  in  your  schemes  this 
morning." 

"You  flattered  yourself  if  you  thought  so.  Any 
man  of  moderate  intelligence  who  could  drive  a  tup- 
penny-halfpenny hired  motor  would  have  suited  me  as 
well.  And,  anyhow,  you've  ceased  to  be  of  the  small- 
est importance  to  me  now ;  the  sooner  you  realize  that 
the  better  it  will  be  for  you  in  the  end." 

"What  if  I  show  up  at  the  dinner  and  denounce  you 
for  what  you  are?" 

"You  would  spend  your  night  in  prison  or  a  mad- 
house, that's  all;  and,  really,  either  one  would  be  a 
suitable  enough  lodging.  But  there,  I've  let  you 

158 


Champion 

bother  me  too  long.  Understand,  once  and  for  all, 
that  you  can  say  what  you  like,  do,  or  write  what  you 
like.  It  will  harm  me  no  more  than  a  crawling  wasp 
that's  lost  its  sting.  That's  my  final  word.  Now, 
since  you  don't  appreciate  civility,  I'll  have  to  try 
something  stronger.  Get  out,  or  I'll  call  the  police." 

He  took  hold  of  the  man  by  his  slight  shoulder  and 
pushed  him  out  of  the  garage,  switching  off  the  electric 
light  near  the  entrance,  and  locking  the  door  after 
himself.  Once  more  I  was  left  alone  in  darkness  and 
silence.  But  both  were  grateful  to  me.  Barr-Simons 
would  not  come  back  now  till  after  the  dinner  was 
over.  I  wished  that  meanwhile  I  could  set  the  place 
on  fire  with  what  petrol  I  had  left,  and  burn  up  glori- 
ously, with  all  my  Master's  secrets. 

How  long  a  time  passed  before  I  again  heard  voices 
I  cannot  tell,  but  it  felt  like  hours,  and  I  had  be- 
gun to  fear  that  I  might  expect  to  hear  the  grating  of 
Barr-Simons'  key  at  any  moment,  when  I  was  startled 
by  a  strange  sound  under  a  small  open  window  high 
up  in  the  wall.  While  the  light  had  been  turned  on, 
I'd  happened  to  notice  the  window,  but  I  had  no  idea 
what  the  outlook  from  it  might  be.  I  could  only  judge 
that  it  probably  did  not  look  on  a  public  thoroughfare, 
because  of  the  time  that  passed  without  any  noise  of 
voices  or  traffic. 

There  was  but  one  faint  sound,  so  faint  that  I  had 

159 


not  been  conscious  of  it  at  first ;  a  monotonous  murmur 
like  the  lap,  lap  of  moving  water. 

The  new  sound  which  startled  me  from  my  dull 
lethargy  was  very  different  from  that,  however.  Sud- 
denly, close  under  the  open  window,  a  woman  began 
to  moan  and  weep  as  if  her  heart  were  breaking.  She 
gave  little  whimpering  cries  which  exploded  into  sobs 
at  the  end,  and  I  listened  with  my  petrol  seeming  to 
congeal,  for  I  had  never  heard  a  woman  cry  before. 

Could  it  possibly  be  Lia,  I  wondered ;  Lia,  who  had 
heard  bad  news  of  my  Master,  and  had  come  here  to 
mourn  him,  near  me?  Or  could  it  be  Sheila  Cam- 
eron? 

But  something  inside  me  said  "No"  to  both  these 
questions.  They  would  not  come  to  Barr-Simons'  gar- 
age at  this  hour  of  the  night,  whatever  had  happened. 
Besides,  they  were  both  such  dainty  little  ladies,  they 
would  not  sob  uncontrollably  and  wail,  unless  in  their  • 
own  locked  rooms,  I  was  sure. 

I  was  very  sorry  for  the  woman  who  was  weeping 
there  alone  in  the  dark,  for  I  knew  not  how  to  sym- 
pathize with  anything  that  suffered,  whether  human 
or  so-called  mechanical;  but  I  did  not  believe  that 
she  was  a  thoroughbred,  like  Lia  Murray  or  Sheila 
Cameron. 

For  two  or  three  long,  painful  moments  she  sobbed 

chokingly,   and  then,   with  a  quick,   indrawn   breath 

160 


Champion 


man  moved  quietly  to  him,  and  spoke  in  English: 
"Why  in  Heaven's  name,  if  you  were  going  to  do  it, 
didn't  you  do  it  before  he'd  won  all  the  honors?"  he 
asked. 

"I  couldn't,"  groaned  Arnaud.  "Mon  Dieu!  If 
I  had  dreamed  I  should  feel  like  this,  I  wouldn't  have 
done  it  at  all.  If  only  I  had  not!  I  am  a  murderer. 
God  knows  I  didn't  mean  to  strike  so  hard." 

"You'd  better  have  thought  of  that  beforehand," 
said  the  other.  "Don't  whine  now.  You've  earned 
your  money  very  badly,  but  I  suppose  you've  earned 
it." 

"Thirty  pieces  of  silver,"  sobbed  Arnaud.  "Where 
is  the  field  that  I  may  go  and  hang  myself?" 

"I  should  think  you'd  been  near  enough  to  death 
without  hanging  yourself,"  sneered  the  other.  "Why 
didn't  you  do  the  thing  decently,  and  take  the  steering- 
wheel  before  the  car  got  out  of  control?" 

"I  did  all  my  possible.  I  was  so  sick  that  I  thought 
I  should  faint  before  it  was  over.  I  wish  I  had  been 
killed  with  Monsieur,  instead  of  left  to  be  torn  with 
this  anguish!" 

"If  you  mean  your  arm,  it  will  be  all  right  in  a 
day  or  two.  If  you  mean  remorse,  you  can  make 
yourself  easy;  Cameron  isn't  dead.  He'll  live  to  put 
you  in  prison,  if  he  remembers  what  happened  and 

you  don't  get  out  of  his  way  before  he  can  tell  tales." 

129 


Champion 

"I  don't  think  he  knew  what  happened;  he  trusted 
me,"  stammered  Arnaud,  paler  than  ever.  "But  if 
he  lives  I  can't  let  him  see  me  again.  I  could  not  bear 
his  eyes.  Mon  Dieu!  shall  I  ever  get  out  of  my  ears 
that  awful  crack  his  head  gave  when  I " 

"Shut  up!"  growled  the  other.  "What  is  done  is 
done.  Try  and  be  a  man.  Of  course  I'll  have  to 
swear,  and  the  rest  will  swear,  that  he  lost  control 
of  the  steering-wheel  and  was  thrown  out,  with  you, 
when  the  car  ran  into  the  tree.  Stick  to  that  story 
and  you're  safe,  whatever  happens.  You're  to  get 
your  second  thousand  to-day,  I  believe,  and  after 
that  you  can  drown  your  recollections  in  drink  for 
the  rest  of  your  life  if  you're  so  inclined." 

Arnaud's  only  answer  was  a  groan.  But  I  guessed 
what  was  in  his  mind.  He  would  be  the  richer  for 
this  crime  by  two  thousand  pounds — a  clear  thousand 
more  than  he  stood  to  gain  by  honesty  if  I  had  won. 
He  hoped  that  his  'Toinette  who  had  lured  him  to 
this — 'Toinette,  for  whose  sake  he  had  thrown  away 
honor  and  stained  his  hands  with  blood — would  marry 
him  now,  as  she  had  led  him  to  believe  she  meant  to 
do. 

But  I  did  not  believe  that  she  had  ever  meant  it. 
I  remembered  how  she  had  smiled  scorn  and  contempt, 
which  he  did  not  see,  that  night  in  our  workshop. 
Barr-Simons  had  had  Arnaud  watched,  perhaps,  in 

130 


Champion 

his  comings  and  goings;  had  come  to  know  of  his  ad- 
miration for  the  music-hall  singer,  and  had  bribed 
her  first  to  encourage  him,  then  to  tempt  him  to  his 
fall.  Perhaps  I  need  not  have  wished  a  more  crushing 
punishment  for  Arnaud  than  to  learn  that  the  woman 
he  worshiped  had  no  longer  a  thought  for  him;  yet 
I  was  merciless,  and  did  wish  him  worse.  There  was 
no  misery  possible  for  a  man  to  suffer  that  I  would 
not  have  wished  Arnaud  to  suffer.  And  I  dared  not 
believe  what  the  other  man  had  told  him — that  my 
Master  was  not  dead. 

Many  cars  passed  us,  their  drivers  not  unseeing, 
but  intent  on  their  own  speed  record.  It  was  nothing 
to  them  that  one  had  fallen  by  the  wayside.  Such 
accidents  formed  a  part  of  every  race.  Perhaps  they 
had  seen  others,  as  they  passed  along  the  course;  it 
was  very  possible  that  our  disaster  was  not  the  only 
one,  and  nobody  dreamed  of  foul  play.  How  I  longed 
for  a  human  voice  to  denounce  the  traitor,  and  the 
villains  who  had  tempted  him!  It  was  terrible  to 
realize  that  I  alone  knew  the  truth,  and  that  I  was 
condemned  for  ever  to  silence. 

At  least,  they  did  not  wish  for  my  Master's  death, 
or  if  they  did  they  had  the  air  of  wishing  to  save  him. 
The  man  of  the  cross-road  bent  over  the  still  body, 
and  poured  some  liquid  from  a  silver  flask  between  the 
shut,  white  lips.  Hugh  did  not  move  or  sigh;  but 


Champion 

after  a  discussion  between  the  owner  of  the  brown 
car,  his  chauffeur,  and  Arnaud,  my  Master  was  car- 
ried across  to  the  little  automobile  and  laid  in  the  ton- 
neau.  Then  the  car  was  turned  and  driven  away  up 
the  cross-road,  for  the  race  was  not  over  yet,  and  the 
course  was  not  free. 

My  first  thought  was  one  of  horror  that  Hugh 
should  have  fallen  into  the  hands  of  the  enemy,  but 
in  a  moment  I  had  reflected  that,  if  he  still  lived,  they 
would  do  him  no  harm.  No  doubt  they  wished  to  pose 
as  humanitarians,  and  be  praised  for  the  care  they 
had  bestowed  upon  the  victim  of  the  accident.  Still,  it 
was  agony  to  have  him  taken  from  me,  not  sure 
whether  he  was  dead  or  alive,  and  fearing  that,  in 
either  case,  I  should  never  see  him  again.  My  petrol 
choked  me  as  he  vanished  from  sight,  and  my  greatest 
regret  for  myself  was  that  I  had  not  suffered  as  much 
damage  from  my  suicidal  act  as  I  had  hoped. 

Arnaud  remained  with  me,  as  did  several  of  the 
pretended  peasants;  but  as  they  had  been  joined  by 
a  number  of  persons  who  had  somehow  heard  the 
news,  they  could  have  no  private  communings,  even 
had  they  wished  it.  I  hated  the  traitor  more  bitterly 
than  ever,  as — in  his  Master's  absence — he  became  the 
hero  of  the  occasion,  pitied  and  sympathized  with  for 
his  misfortunes,  and  the  fate  of  the  car  and  its  owner. 

He  accepted  all,  chattered  of  his  wounds  and  his 

132 


Champion 

sufferings,  and  answered  questions  about  the  accident, 
giving  a  dramatic,  specious,  and  utterly  false  version 
of  the  catastrophe,  which,  unless  my  Master  lived  and 
recalled  the  thing  that  had  really  happened,  could 
never  be  contradicted.  Arnaud  looked  me  over,  under 
the  interested  eye  of  his  admirers,  and  having  dis- 
covered that  my  propeller  was  smashed  to  atoms,  my 
bonnet  flattened,  and  my  steering-rods  bent,  never- 
theless pronounced  my  vital  parts  to  be  intact.  My 
wheels,  too,  were  unbroken,  and  I  was  furious  to  hear 
him  say  that  the  steering-rods  must  have  been  defective 
in  the  first  place,  or  the  accident  could  not  have  hap- 
pened. If  only  I  could  have  got  to  the  tree  before  he 
jammed  on  my  brakes  and  reduced  my  speed,  he  would 
not  have  lived  to  tell  these  lies  about  his  Master's 
work! 

Before  leaving  the  scene  of  the  accident,  the  watcher 
of  the  cross-road  had  shouted  to  Arnaud  that  he 
would  get  some  farmer  of  the  neighborhood  to  send 
a  horse  and  tow  me  off  the  track.  I  could  have  hissed 
with  disgust  at  this,  for  I  knew  well  enough  that  the 
farmer  with  the  horse  would  be  only  another  actor 
in  this  melodrama  of  deceit.  The  idea  must  be  to  get 
me  away  to  some  spot  still  quieter,  still  safer,  and 
more  secluded  than  the  one  selected  for  the  "accident" 
to  occur,  and  .there  to  give  me  over  to  the  tender  mer- 
cies of  the  man  who  had  inspired  the  whole  plot. 

133 


Champion 

My  one  hope  was  that  the  race  might  be  over  be- 
fore this  plan  could  be  carried  out,  and  that  Sheila 
Cameron,  or  even  Cecilia  Murray's  father,  might  lay 
claim  to  me,  by  the  right  of  a  relative  or  friend  of  the 
owner,  until  my  future  fate  should  be  settled.  In- 
deed, there  was  a  bare  chance  that,  if  Cecilia  Murray 
had  heard  the  bad  news,  she  would  insist  upon  rescu- 
ing me  for  Hugh's  sake.  She  had  suspected  treachery, 
and  warned  my  Master.  Her  quick  mind  would  tell 
her  that  the  accident  was  no  accident,  and  she  would 
be  ready  to  do  her  girlish  best  in  Hugh's  interests,  I 
knew.  But — would  not  anything  she  could  do  be  too 
late? 

While  I  wondered  desperately,  counting  the  mom- 
ents, hope  died  with  the  approach  down  the  cross- 
road of  a  huge  cart-horse,  led  by  a  sullen-looking  giant 
of  a  man.  Racing  cars  were  still  dashing  by  at  in- 
tervals, and  my  fate  was  sealed.  The  horse  and  I 
were  somehow  ignominiously  attached  to  one  an- 
other, to  the  animal's  distaste  as  well  as  mine,  and, 
despite  the  resistance  I  offered  by  making  myself  as 
heavy  and  unwieldy  as  I  could,  I  was  compelled  to 
the  ignominy  of  following  at  the  great  clumsy  crea- 
ture's tail. 

Slowly,  by  cross-roads,  they  towed  me  back  to  the 
starting-point  of  the  race,  which  by  rights  I  should 
have  won;  and,  as  by  this  time  all  the  cars  had  come 

134 


Champion 

home,  been  timed  and  noted,  the  wretches  did  not 
spare  me  the  humiliation  of  being  dragged  past  the 
grand  stand,  showing  my  battered  body  to  the  world 
which  had  cheered  me  with  delirium  when  last  I 
passed  that  way. 

I  tried  to  comfort  myself  by  saying:  "At  least, 
this  is  better  than  being  hurried  off  to  some  dark  hole 
by  Barr-Simons'  emissaries,  and  immured  forever. 
Now,  Sheila  and  Lia  Murray  will  see  me,  after  all.  I 
may  be  rescued  yet." 

But  I  could  not  delude  myself  into  being  cheered 
by  such  sophistry.  It  was  clear  that  Barr-Simons' 
game  was  deeper  than  I  had  guessed,  and  that  he  was 
comfortably  certain  it  was  all  in  his  own  hands,  other- 
wise he  would  not  have  run  the  risk.  Or,  if  I  were 
wrong  in  this  surmise,  it  was  because  I  had  so  bat- 
tered myself  that  he  dismissed  me  from  his  mind  as 
worthless,  and  would  simply  shame  me  for  the  pleas- 
ure of  humiliating  his  rival,  my  maker. 

Every  one  stared  at  me,  as  I  trailed  miserably  by 
behind  the  cart-horse,  all  with  curiosity,  some  with 
pity  in  their  glances,  but  more,  I  thought,  with  that 
kind  of  morbid  satisfaction  in  the  failure  of  others, 
which  I  have  learned  since  then  is  too  often  charac- 
teristic of  human  nature.  Had  I  triumphed  to  the 
end  my  victory  would  hardly  have  been  a  popular 
one,  seeing  that  I  was  a  rank  outsider,  and  a  foreign 

135 


Champion 

outsider,  too;  whereas  Barr-Simons,  though  calling 
himself  an  Englishman,  had  a  large  factory  in 
France,  where  he  employed  French  workmen. 

I  had  borne  all  of  ignominy  I  could  bear,  it  seemed, 
without  dropping  to  pieces  in  my  mortification,  when 
a  thing  happened  that  changed  the  color  of  the  sky 
for  me. 


136 


CHAPTER  XI. 

/  Fall  Into  the  Hands  of  the  Enemy. 

They  had  towed  me  to  the  middle  of  the  grand 
stand,  when  I  saw  Sheila  Cameron  and  Cecilia  Mur- 
ray. They  were  not  together,  of  course,  but  they 
were  standing  up,  in  the  midst  of  other  women  who 
were  still  seated;  and  the  same  expression  was  on 
both  faces — an  expression  of  horror  and  distress. 

The  news  had  come  by  telephone  before  I  was 
dragged  upon  the  scene,  and  they  had  heard  it.  Then, 
suddenly,  they  caught  sight  of  me,  and  I  heard — or 
fancied  that  I  heard — a  low,  pitiful  cry  from  each. 
Without  any  thought  except  for  my  Master  and  his 
car,  the  two  girls  left  their  places  and  ran  down  the 
steps  between  the  boxes  and  rows  of  seats,  impul- 
sively bent  on  making  their  way  to  me. 

At  first,  Mr.  Murray  tried  to  restrain  his  daughter, 
but,  seeing  that  this  was  useless,  he  followed  to  keep 
her  in  countenance.  Sheila's  companion,  too — the 
handsome,  tired-looking  woman  I  had  noticed  before 
—would  have  kept  her  back  if  she  could;  but  Sheila 
did  not  seem  to  feel  the  hand  on  her  arm;  and  her 
friend,  after  an  instant's  hesitation,  adopted  the  same 
course  which  Mr.  Murray  had  taken. 

137 


Champion 

Just  at  this  moment,  the  great  Barr-Simons — the 
man  who  for  novelty  of  invention  and  speed  com- 
bined had  won  the  Surprise  Cup — was  being  con- 
gratulated by  the  French  President,  the  visiting  King, 
and  Vandervoorst,  the  instigator  of  the  race.  He 
glanced  away,  to  see  Sheila  and  her  companion  hurry- 
ing to  intercept  me,  and  excusing  himself,  joined 
them.  But  already  the  Murrays  were  at  my  side. 
The  beautiful  girl,  looking  as  pale  and  anxious  as  if 
she  and  my  Master  had  been  old  friends,  began  to  ask 
questions  of  the  men  who  had  dragged  me  to  my 
martyrdom.  She  spoke  in  pretty,  schoolgirl  French, 
studied  from  books,  and  needing  practise  to  perfect 
pronunciation  and  accent;  but  if  they  had  not  been 
taken  aback  by  so  much  beauty  and  youthful  impetu- 
osity, they  might  easily  have  understood.  As  it  was, 
they  merely  looked  stupid,  and  stared,  looking  still 
more  stupid  when  Mr.  Murray  began  doing  his  labori- 
ous best  to  help  her  out.  Then,  Sheila  with  the  hand- 
some woman,  and  Barr-Simons  came  forward. 

There  wrere  tears  in  Sheila's  eyes,  and  the  straining 
after  self-control  took  something  from  the  feminine 
softness  of  her  young  face,  increasing  the  likeness  to 
her  brother.  No  wonder  Lia  saw  it,  remembering 
Hugh's  description  of  his  "little  sister,"  that  happy 
day  of  our  run  to  Paris! 

"Oh,  are  you  Miss  Cameron?"  she  asked.  "You're 

138 


Champion 

so  like  him  —  you  must  be  the  sister  he  told  us  of,  I 
think.  I  hope  your  brother  isn't  badly  hurt?  My 
father  and  I  would  be  so  glad  of  news  of  him." 

"If  I  only  knew!"  exclaimed  Sheila,  no  longer  able 
to  keep  back  the  tears.  "We've  only  just  heard  of 
the  accident,  and  nobody  seems  to  know  what  has  hap- 
pened to  him." 

"Where's  his  chauffeur?  Why  isn't  he  here  with 
the  car?"  cried  Lia,  a  bright  color  streaming  over 
her  face,  and  her  eyes  flashing.  "I  know  whatever 
happened  was  his  fault.  I  warned  Mr.  Cameron  he 
was  a  traitor,  that  he  meant  to  ruin  him  if  he  could. 


But  Barr-Simons  stepped  forward,  very  polite  and 
very  grave,  his  motoring-cap  in  his  hand.  His  black 
hair  was  whitened  with  dust,  and  it  made  him  appear 
older  and  less  harsh  than  he  would  have  looked  with- 
out the  powdering.  "I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said, 
"but  I  think  you  are  doing  the  poor  chauffeur  an 
injustice,  for  so  far  from  having  brought  about  the 
accident,  he  did  his  very  best  to  prevent  it,  and  has 
been  badly  hurt.  You  are  no  doubt  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Cameron's?  Well,  I  am  his  friend,  too,  I  hope;  and 
Miss  Cameron  is  here  with  my  wife  and  myself.  I 
am  sorry  that  his  sister  or  any  friends  who  care  for 
him  should  have  heard  the  news  of  the  accident  in 
such  a  sudden  way;  I  hoped  it  might  have  been  kept 

139 


Champion 

from  Miss  Cameron  till  I  could  have  broken  it  my- 
self, and  told  her  that  there  are  the  best  hopes  for  her 
brother's  recovery." 

"You  are  sure?"  implored  Sheila,  while  Lia 
awaited  the  answer  in  silence. 

"Sure.  I  couldn't  get  to  you  till  now,  you  know, 
or  you  should  have  heard  my  version  of  the  unlucky 
accident  before  any  rumor  of  something  dreadful  and 
mysterious  began  going  round,  and  it  always  does  on 
occasions  like  this.  I  passed  the  car  myself,  on  the 
course,  just  after  the  steering-gear  had  gone  wrong 
— must  have  been  a  little  weakness,  everybody  thinks 
— and  it  had  smashed  into  a  tree.  But  Hugh  was 
sitting  up,  drinking  out  of  a  flask  some  one  had  offered 
him,  and  the  poor  chauffeur  seemed  the  worse  off  of 
the  two." 

Now,  I  knew  he  was  lying,  and  my  hopes,  which 
had  revived,  died  down  again.  The  scoundrel  was 
merely  trying  to  make  his  impression  on  the  two  cred- 
ulous girls;  and  the  worst  was  that  he  was  likely  to 
succeed.  Sheila's  eyes  brightened,  and  the  cloud  of 
suspicion  began  to  clear  away  from  Lia's  charming 
face.  I  was  sure  she  did  not  understand  that  this  man 
was  Barr-Simons,  Hugh's  enemy ;  and  seeing  him  with 
Sheila,  hearing  that  Hugh's  sister  was  staying  with 
his  wife,  must  have  convinced  her  of  the  man's  sin- 
cerity. 

140 


Champion 

"Surely  you  didn't  pass  without  doing  anything  for 
Hugh?"  exclaimed  Sheila,  knowing  nothing  of  the 
cold  selfishness  which  racing  men  must  cultivate  if 
they  would  be  successful. 

"Of  course  not,"  he  lied  again.  "I  slowed  down 
and  gave  directions  that  he  was  to  be  taken  to  a  hos- 
pital, which  is,  luckily,  rather  near.  A  friend  of  mine 
was  close  by — had  been  watching  the  race  in  his  auto- 
mobile from  a  cross-road;  he  promised  to  take  charge 
of  everything,  and  let  me  have  news  for  you,  Miss 
Cameron,  as  soon  as  he  could, 

"Then  I  was  obliged  to  go  on  to  clear  the  way  for 
other  racers.  It  wouldn't  do  to  block  the  course; 
though,  as  far  as  I  was  concerned,  I  would  gladly 
have  sacrificed  my  own  chances  of  winning  to  do  any- 
thing for  Hugh,  who  ought  by  rights,  I  feel,  to  have 
beaten  me.  He  made  a  splendid  fight,  Miss  Cameron, 
and  you  may  well  be  proud  of  him,  though  by  bad 
luck  he  failed.  If  you  agree,  I'll  give  orders  that  his 
car  shall  be  taken  to  my  garage,  and  kept  there  until 
he's  well  enough  to  claim  it." 

Sheila  seemed  distressed  and  slightly  confused.  "I 
— I  wish  I  knew  what  my  brother  would  wish,"  she 
murmured,  remembering,  no  doubt,  his  hints,  which 
had  almost  amounted  to  accusations,  of  Gilbert  Barr- 
Simons  as  his  enemy. 

But  who,  seeing  and  listening  to  the  man  now, 

141 


Champion 

would  not  have  trusted  him,  believing  that  he  had 
been  misjudged? — who,  not  knowing  the  black  truth 
of  him,  as  I  knew  it?  He  appeared  sympathetic,  con- 
siderate, and  even  gentle,  and,  though  he  may  have 
guessed  the  cause  of  Sheila's  hesitation,  he  showed  no 
sign  of  offense. 

"I  think,"  he  said,  "that  your  brother  would  wish 
me  to  look  after  the  welfare  of  his  car,  because,  no 
doubt,  he  values  it  of  all  things;  and  if  I  don't  take 
care  of  it,  what  is  to  become  of  it  ?  He  has  no  intimate 
friends  here,  I  believe;  at  least" — and  he  glanced  at 
Mr.  Murray  and  Lia — "in  the  automobile  world. 
Edith,  try  to  persuade  Miss  Cameron  that  I  am  right." 

"I'm  sure  he  is,  dear,"  urged  his  handsome  wife 
kindly;  and  Sheila  could  not  hold  out  longer. 

"Very  well,  I  suppose  you  know  best,"  she  faltered, 
with  visible  reluctance,  yet  fearing  to  be  ungracious 
and  unjust. 

"Good!"  said  Barr-Simons  cheerfully.  "That's  set- 
tled! Now  come  along,  and  I'll  take  you  to  see  your 
brother." 

Sheila  moved  forward  eagerly;  then  paused,  turn- 
ing shyly  to  the  Murrays.  "Would  you — you  are 
dear  friends  of  his,  aren't  you — would  you  wish  to — 
to  go  with  us?"  she  stammered. 

Lia  flushed  so  painfully  that  tears  were  forced  to 
her  eyes.  "We're  very  much  interested  in  him,"  she 

143 


Champion 

said,  "but  we've  known  him  only  a  short  time.  We 
couldn't  take  the  liberty  of  visiting  him  with  you  at 
the  hospital;  but  if  we  should  go  somewhere  near 
there  and  wait,  would  you — let  us  know  how  he  is?" 

"Certainly,  we  would,"  Sheila  answered,  "if  you're 
sure  you  won't  come  with  us?" 

"My  daughter  is  quite  right,"  Mr.  Murray  replied 
for  the  girl.  "It  would  be  a  liberty  for  us  to  go  and 
see  Mr.  Cameron  with  his  sister." 

While  they  were  talking,  and  before  Barr-Simons 
could  get  them  away — though  I  thought  he  was  anx- 
ious to  do  so — Mr.  Vandervoorst,  who  had  escaped 
from  his  distinguished  companions,  came  toward  the 
group.  His  face  was  even  nicer  than  it  had  been 
in  the  photograph  pinned  up  in  our  workshop,  but 
now  it  was  very  grave.  He  spoke  to  Barr-Simons  in 
a  low  voice,  yet  I  heard  what  he  said.  He  was  ask- 
ing to  be  introduced  to  Hugh  Cameron's  sister. 

"Why,  of  course,  if  you  wish,"  returned  Barr- 
Simons,  evidently  far  from  pleased  at  the  suggestion. 
"But  she's  awfully  upset  about  her  brother,  just  now. 
Don't  you  think  another  time " 

"It's  about  her  brother  that  I  want  to  speak,"  said 
Vandervoorst.  "I  should  be  obliged  to  you  if  you'd 
introduce  me." 

Short  of  ungraciousness  and  making  himself  dis- 
agreeable to  the  young  millionaire,  Barr-Simons  could 

143 


Champion 

hardly  hold  off  longer;  and  I  know  now  that  people 
think  twice  before  making  themselves  disagreeable  to 
millionaires,  even  when  they,  too,  are  rich  and  of 
consequence.  He  brought  Vandervoorst  nearer  to 
Sheila  and  mentioned  his  name.  Apparently  Mrs. 
Barr-Simons  and  the  American  had  met  previously, 
for  they  bowed  to  each  other  before  Vandervoorst 
began  speaking  very  earnestly  and  gravely  to  Sheila. 

Seeing  her  thus  occupied,  and  not  wishing  to  put 
themselves  forward,  the  Murrays  moved  away  and 
stood  at  a  little  distance.  Then  they  whispered  to 
each  other;  and  a  moment  later,  while  the  group  of 
four  were  murmuring  together,  oblivious  of  them, 
father  and  daughter  came  straight  to  where  I  now 
stood,  miserably  awaiting  the  settlement  of  my  fate. 

The  two  men  who  were  with  me  were  French,  and 
Lia  began  to  talk  to  her  father  about  me  in  English, 
as  if  they  had  no  existence  for  her. 

"Oh,  Dad!"  she  exclaimed,  "isn't  it  too  sad  to  see 
the  poor  darling  half-dead,  like  this,  when  he  was  so 
gay  and  splendid  on  the  way  to  Paris,  and  was  so 
brave  and  wonderful  to-day — only  a  little,  little  while 
ago!  Yet  look  at  him  now." 

"Great  Scott,  Lia,  what  do  you  mean?"  exclaimed 
Mr.  Murray.  "Who's  half-dead,  after  being  so  gay?" 

"Why,  the  dear  car,  of  course,"   said  Lia,  quite 

impatient  at  not  being  understood;  and  I  could  have 

144 


Champion 


a  few  miles  for  me.  At  Nimes  there's  a  man  I've  had 
dealings  with  who'll  put  the  car  up  for  me  in  his  gar- 
age, and  fit  it  with  a  new  body — on  tick — which  will 
disguise  it.  I  shall  tell  him  I've  bought  one  of  the 
broken  racers — several  came  croppers  to-day — for  a 
song,  and  that  I  want  it  turned  into  a  touring  car,  as 
soon  as  possible.  It  will  make  a  fine  one,  a  splendid 
asset  for  two  adventurers.  With  smart  clothes,  a  title 
• — we've  only  to  choose  one — and  a  magnificent  high- 
powered  automobile  to  travel  in,  we  shall  find  the 
world  our  oyster.  I  think  we  couldn't  do  better  than 
begin  with  the  Riviera.  The  high  season's  on  till  after 
Easter,  and  luckily  for  us,  Easter  falls  late  this  year. 
Do  you  speak  French  well  enough  to  be  a  French  com- 
tesse?  Or  had  we  better  be  Russians — prince  and 
princess  ?" 

"I  don't  know  a  word  of  Russian." 

"And  I,  not  half  a  dozen.  But  all  the  Russians  of 
the  higher  classes  speak  French,  even  to  each  other  and 
in  their  own  homes.  Princes  grow  thick  as  blackber- 
ries in  Russia;  we  will  be  touring  the  Riviera  on  our 
wedding  trip,  and  that  part  of  the  romance  we  will 
make  genuine." 

"If  we  should  be  found  out?" 

"The  danger's  part  of  the  adventure.  But  it's  so 
late  in  the  season.  Most  of  the  Russians  will  be  gone. 

And,  anyhow,  we'll  reap  a  golden  harvest  before  the 

177 


Champion 

storm.  The  one  difficulty,  after  we've  got  the  car,  is 
the  lack  of  ready  money — just  a  bit  to  start  out  with 
— the  rest  will  come  like  the  air  we  breathe." 

"I  have  a  little  jewelry  we  might  pawn — a  ring 
left  me  by  an  aunt;  it  might  be  worth  ten  pounds;  a 
string  of  pearls — quite  stingy  small  ones — Monsieur 
Beringer  gave  me  secretly  on  my  birthday;  a  watch 
that  was  my  own  mother's,  and  a  few  other  trifles. 
We  might  get  thirty  or  forty  pounds  for  the  lot.  It 
wasn't  enough  for  me  to  go  on  with.  But  it  might  do 
for  us  for  a  few  days." 

"Good.  Nothing  could  be  better.  We'll  raise 
money  on  the  things  to-morrow  at  Nimes.  Just  now 
there's  lots  to  do.  I  have  to  climb  up  this  ladder, 
which  I  borrowed  from  the  gardener's  next  door,  and 
creep  through  that  tiny  window  up  there — it  will  be  a 
tight  squeeze,  even  for  a  thin  chap — bring  out  the  car, 
and  fire  the  place  behind  me." 

"Oh,  must  you  do  that?" 

"Yes,  or  they'll  be  hot  on  our  track.  If  the  garage 
is  burnt  to  the  ground  we  shall  have  several  days'  start 
at  worst,  for  they  won't  discover  at  first  that  the  re- 
mains of  both  cars  aren't  still  in  the  place.  Besides, 
I  want  more  complete  revenge  on  Barr-Simons  than 
cheating  him  out  of  poor  Cameron's  secrets;  though 
that  loss  alone  will  touch  him  to  the  quick.  He  shall 

lose  his  own  property,  too,  as  well  as  his  chance  to  pick 

178 


Champion 

another  man's  brains.  Do  you  grudge  me  my  satis- 
faction?" 

"No-o.  I  should  feel  as  you  do,  if  it  were  the 
Beringers.  And  the  wretch  deserves  to  suffer — he's  a 
villain." 

"Then  we're  agreed.  There's  no  more  time  to  play 
with  now.  I'm  going  to  place  the  ladder." 

Silence  followed  this  last  announcement;  but  pres- 
ently I  heard  a  scraping  noise,  and  then  the  man's 
voice  spoke  close  to  the  open  window,  high  in  the  wall. 

"Jove!  I  can't  do  it.  I  can't  get  my  shoulders 
through.  Are  we  to  be  beaten,  after  all — by  a  hole  in 
the  wall?" 

"Let  me  try,"  said  the  girl  eagerly.  "I  should  love 
to  help  you.  I'm  such  a  little  slim  thing,  I  know  I 
can  squeeze  through,  and  I'm  not  afraid  to  let  myself 
drop  on  the  other  side.  It  can't  be  much  of  a  fall. 
Then  I'll  unlock  the  door,  and  you  can  walk  in." 

"Good!"  said  the  man.  "You're  a  brave  child. 
Already  you're  showing  me  the  stuff  you're  made  of. 
I  may  owe  my  whole  success  to  you;  and  it  wouldn't 
be  the  less  sweet  for  that." 

Again  there  was  silence.  The  pair  were  too  intent 
upon  the  work  they  had  in  hand  to  speak,  but  not 
more  than  two  or  three  minutes  could  have  passed 
before  I  heard  again  a  scratching  noise  below  the 

window.     Then  came  a  light,  quick  breathing,  as  of 

179 


C  h  a  m  p  I  5  tt 


one  in  excitement;  a  scrambling,  a  low  laugh,  and  a 
little  cry  of  triumph. 

The  high  window  had  been  cut  out  of  the  darkness 
which  lay  thick  in  the  garage,  a  small  square  of  glim- 
mering blue.  Now  it  was  filled  with  black  shadow, 
and  the  breathing  grew  heavier  and  more  excited.  At 
last,  the  blue  square  was  clear  again,  and  I  heard  the 
tapping  of  little  pointed  shoes  against  the  wall.  The 
girl  had  squeezed  through  the  window;  she  was  hang- 
ing from  the  frame  by  her  hands ;  as  soon  as  she  found 
courage  she  would  drop ! 

She  and  her  newly  allied  partner  were  not  moralists, 
but  they  were  better  than  Barr-Simons,  for  they  had 
red  blood  in  their  veins  and  human  hearts  in  their 
breasts.  Besides,  they  planned  to  snatch  me  and  my 
Master's  secrets  from  Barr-Simons;  and,  as  it  seemed 
to  me  that  anything  which  could  possibly  happen 
would  be  preferable  to  staying  with  him,  I  found  my- 
self sympathizing  with  the  past  troubles  of  the 
strangely  met  pair,  and  ardently  wishing  for  their 
future  success.  It  did  occur  to  me  that  perhaps  this 
man  might  try  to  steal  from  me  the  secrets  he  had 
torn  from  Barr-Simons;  but  I  could  see  how  difficult 
it  would  be  for  a  man  in  his  position  to  take  advan- 
tage of  any  knowledge  he  might  obtain,  even  if  he 
appreciated  its  full  value.  Barr-Simons  had  two  fac- 
tories and  plenty  of  money.  This  fellow  had  nothing, 

180 


Champion 

and  no  credit.  He  had  decided  to  run  the  risk  of 
running  off  with  me  partly  for  the  sake  of  revenge, 
partly  because  I  could  start  him  upon  a  career;  but 
the  success  of  that  career  would  depend  upon  his  con- 
cealing my  identity  and  real  nature.  There  lay  pro- 
tection for  my  Master's  secrets,  if  he  should  live  and 
be  able  to  make  further  use  of  them;  and  in  my  joy 
at  that  thought  I  would  not  dwell  just  then  on  the 
difficulty  of  making  myself  known  to  Hugh — should 
we  ever  meet  again — in  the  disguise  my  new  owner 
meant  to  put  me  in. 

I  had  but  a  few  seconds  in  which  to  carburate  these 
reflections  before  the  girl  let  herself  drop,  knocking 
over  some  tins  in  her  descent,  which  made  such  a 
clashing  and  rattling  as  they  rolled  about  the  floor 
in  the  darkness  that  I  was  afraid  some  one  passing 
the  door  might  hear,  and  give  an  alarm. 

The  girl  fell  among  these  cans,  and  must  have  hurt 
herself,  for  I  heard  her  give  a  little  whimpering  moan, 
like  a  child's,  as  she  picked  herself  up;  but  aloud,  she 
cried  to  her  friend  cheerfully,  "I'm  all  right.  Now 
I'm  going  to  find  the  electric  light,  if  I  can,  and  open 
the  door." 

At  this,  he  must  have  deserted  his  post  under  the 
window  and  hurried  round  to  the  front  of  the  garage, 
for  while  the  giil  was  still  feeling  her  way  through 

the  darkness,  his  voice  called  her  at  the  door.     "Slip 

181 


Champion 

back  the  bolts,"  he  said.  "Barr-Simons  has  got  the 
key,  of  course;  but  when  the  bolts  are  undone  the 
two  doors  will  swing  open  when  I  pull." 

Her  skirts  brushed  against  me  as  she  passed  me,  on 
her  way  to  obey  instructions;  and  a  moment  later  I 
heard  the  clatter  of  the  bolts,  as  with  all  her  force 
the  girl  shoved  them  out  of  place.  Then  came  a 
draft  of  cool  air,  as  the  man  entered,  shutting  the 
door  again. 

"I  couldn't  find  the  switch,"  she  said,  her  voice 
trembling  with  excitement. 

"I  know  where  it  is,"  he  answered;  and  almost  in- 
stantly the  garage  was  flooded  with  the  crude,  white 
light  which  a  few  hours  ago  had  shown  me  the  face 
of  my  arch  enemy. 

Now  I  saw  once  more  it  showed  me  the  face  of  the 
man  whom  that  enemy  had  thrust  out,  lightly  daring 
him  to  do  his  worst.  I  looked  with  more  interest  at 
the  sharp,  clever  features  now,  the  bright,  dark  eyes, 
the  cleft  chin  and  red  mustache.  And  I  observed 
quite  as  eagerly  the  girl  whose  story  I  had  heard. 

I  did  not  wonder  that  the  man  had  been  taken  with 
her  appearance,  and  fancied  her  a  suitable  partner 
for  such  a  career  as  he  proposed.  She  wras  small  and 
slight,  not  in  the  least  queenly,  nor  was  she  a  real 
beauty  like  Cecilia  Murray;  but  her  figure  was  per- 
fect, willowy  and  voluptuous  though  slender,  and  fem- 

182 


Champion 

inine  in  every  charming  curve.  The  face  was  piquant, 
in  shape  rather  like  a  heart,  and  it  was  framed  with 
a  cloud  of  soft  brown  hair,  loosened  by  her  fall.  The 
nose  was  dainty,  if  insignificant,  and  the  pouting 
mouth  seemed  made  for  the  singing  of  love  ballads 
and  lover's  kisses,  but  the  great  attraction  was  the 
eyes.  Not  that  they  were  remarkable  for  form  or 
color,  but  she  had  a  way  of  looking  up  suddenly  from 
under  heavy  white  lids  and  thick  dark  lashes  that 
must  have  set  a  man's  blood  beating  faster.  Auto- 
mobile as  I  was,  I  could  not  help  rejoicing  that  so 
enticing  a  creature  had  been  saved  from  the  river,  even 
if  for  a  career  which  might  leave  her  short  of  such 
merit  as  she  still  preserved. 

"You're  even  prettier  than  I  thought,"  said  the  man, 
blinking  at  her,  his  eyes  half -dazzled  by  the  sudden 
glare  of  the  electric  light. 

The  girl  thanked  him  with  a  smile.  "And  you  are 
nicer,  too,"  she  laughed.  "But  do  you  know  what  has 
struck  me?  We've  told  each  other  everything  about 
ourselves  except  our  names !" 

"That  doesn't  matter  much,  since  we're  going  to 
choose  a  new  one  between  us,"  he  said.  "But  mine 
has  been  Paul  Fanning." 

"Paul  you  must  keep.  It's  my  favorite  for  a  man — 
another  coincidence!"  she  exclaimed.  "I'm  Mary 
Precious." 

183 


Champion 

"You'll  still  be  precious — to  me,"  said  the  man. 
"And  why  not  change  your  Mary  for  Marie,  to  the 
world?  As  for  our  title,  we'll  decide  on  it  later,  over 
a  glass  of  champagne." 

"Champagne  sounds  better  than  water — with  that 
black,  running  river  photographed  on  my  mind," 
cried  the  girl.  "But  now  for  the  car  that  will  take 
us  to  the  champagne." 

"Now  for  the  car,"  he  echoed;  and  gave  his  atten- 
tion to  me. 

The  first  thing  he  did  was  to  turn  on  my  switch, 
and  as  there  was  strong  compression  in  one  of  my 
cylinders,  I  could  but  explode,  even  if  I  had  wished 
to  be  dumb,  when  the  spark  lit  with  life  the  waiting 
molecules  of  gas.  Softly,  rhythmically,  as  in  the 
happy  days  of  old,  my  motor  sang  its  song. 

"Good!"  said  Paul  Fanning.  "I  thought  the  en- 
gine was  all  right,  and  it  is,  you  see.  We  shall  be  able 
to  do  the  trick,  my  Princess.  As  for  this  fan  affair, 
it's  smashed  beyond  hope.  I'll  get  rid  of  the  thing, 
for  I  can't  make  use  of  it  one  way  or  another — but 
I'm  hanged  if  Barr-Simons  shall  have  it  to  brood 
over.  Just  in  case  the  fire  should  spare  it  to  him, 
I'll  throw  what's  le't  into  the  river."  And  when  he 
had  snatched  up  a  spanner  and  disconnected  the 
broken  wings  of  my  propeller  from  my  body — as  if 

I   were   a   fallen   angel   doomed   to   punishment — he 

184 


Champion 


pulled  a  bench  under  the  high  window,  and  flung  out 
the  battered  remains  of  my  greatness.  I  heard  an 
answering  splash  of  water,  and  though  I  felt  a  respon- 
sive pang,  still  I  was  glad,  for  my  loss  was  Barr- 
Simons'  loss  as  well. 

His  next  act  was  to  stop  a  leak  which  he  suspected, 
and  to  fill  me  up  with  all  the  petrol  I  could  hold.  He 
also  thriftily  stowed  away  here  and  there  as  many 
spare  bidons  as  I  was  able  to  carry,  and  annexed  an 
acetylene-lamp  which  he  found.  Then,  turning  off 
the  light  for  prudence's  sake,  before  he  once  more 
threw  the  doors  open  wide,  he  mounted  into  my  Mas- 
ter's seat  and  drove  me  out  into  the  night. 

It  was  easy  to  tell  that  an  unaccustomed  hand  was 
guiding  me;  still,  none  save  an  all-round  expert  and 
clever  driver,  such  as  he  evidently  was,  could  have  got 
me  to  move  when  touching  me  for  the  first  time.  He 
took  me  to  a  little  distance  from  the  garage,  and 
brought  me  to  a  standstill  in  the  intense  black  shadow 
cast  by  a  large  chestnut-tree.  A  low  whistle  called 
the  newly  named  Marie  to  his  side,  and  he  bade  her 
be  seated  on  me  while  he  went  back  to  "finish  the 
business." 

"Be  careful,"  she  whispered;  and  I  could  hear  her 
breath  coming  fast  and  irregularly  as  she  waited  in 
the  darkness.  At  last  she  gave  a  smothered  cry;  and 
at  the  same  instant  a  light  sprang  up  behind  rile.  Then 

185 


Champion 

came  the  sound  of  running  feet,  and  Fanning  was 
lighting  the  lamp  which  he  had  fastened  deftly  onto 
my  battered  bonnet,  and  mounting  quickly  to  the 
driver's  seat. 

Damaged  as  I  was,  I  could  not  run  my  best,  when 
he  had  started  me;  but  I  limped  along  willingly, 
grateful  to  this  adventurer  who  was  taking  me,  broken 
as  I  was,  out  of  Barr-Simons'  clutches. 

"How  did  you  do  it?"  asked  the  girl,  as  I  whisked 
round  the  corner  of  a  narrow  street  like  a  lane,  and 
into  a  wide,  open  road,  lined  by  a  few  suburban  villas. 

"Drenched  the  place  with  all  the  petrol  we  couldn't 
carry,  and  flung  in  from  outside  a  piece  of  lighted 
cotton-waste,"  answered  Fanning  joyously.  "I  dashed 
the  doors  shut,  so  that  the  light  shouldn't  be  seen  too 
soon,  but  it  was  a  pity  I  had  to;  open  there'd  have 
been  more  draft.  There's  no  fear,  though;  nothing 
could  save  the  place  now.  The  garage  was  run  up  in 
a  hurry;  Barr-Simons'  chauffeur  is  in  the  sulks  on 
account  of  that  time-lock,  and  is  drowning  his  sorrows 
in  drink  at  a  cafe  in  the  town.  The  fire's  sure  to  have 
fifteen  minutes'  start,  at  the  least,  before  the  alarm 
can  be  given,  and  then,  by  the  time  the  firemen  get 
on  the  scene,  the  roof  will  have  fallen  in." 

"I'm  glad  there's  no  house  near.  I  should  hate  to 
think  we'd  endangered  people's  lives,"  said  the  girl. 

"No  chance  of  that.  Barr-Simons  is  the  only  one 
186 


FANNING  WAS  LIGHTING  THE  LAMP. 


(/.  186.) 


Champion 

who'll  suffer,"  Fanning  chuckled,  and  the  girl  joined 
him  in  excited  laughter,  as  we  fled  on  and  on  through 
the  night,  out  into  the  quiet  country. 

Thankful  as  I  was  to  get  away,  carrying  the  secret 
of  all  my  Master's  inventions,  I  bore  an  aching  burden 
of  despair  which  grew  heavier  with  each  kilometer 
that  I  ran.  I  was  leaving  Hugh  Cameron  behind,  and 
perhaps  I  should  never  know  whether  he  still  lived 
in  the  same  world  with  me,  or  had  gone  to  another, 
where  the  best  automobile  could  never  hope  to  follow. 

It  was  not  yet  midnight  when  we  started,  and  dawn 
— for  me  a  sadly  different  dawn  from  the  last — was 
beginning  to  trail  a  pale  torch  along  the  horizon  in 
the  east,  when  we  drove  into  a  large,  sleeping  town. 
We  had  passed  other  towns,  but  had  kept  on  the  out- 
skirts; and  when  I  heard  Fanning  say  to  his  com- 
panion, "This  is  Nimes,"  I  knew  that  we  had  come  to 
the  end  of  our  journey  for  the  night.  I  remembered 
only  too  well  what  was  to  happen  to  me  at  Nimes. 

Slowly  we  wound  through  quiet  streets,  where  the 
shuttered  windows  of  houses  were  like  fast-closed 
eyes,  and  stopped  at  length  before  the  barred  doors  of 
a  garage. 

"My  friend  lives  on  the  floor  above,"  said  Fanning. 
"There's  an  electric  bell,  and  I'll  have  him  down  in 
two  minutes.  Then,  when  all's  settled,  you  and  I'll 

have  our  first  breakfast  together.    You  must  be  starv- 

187 


Champion 

ing  with  hunger  as  well  as  cold;  and  afterward,  when 
hot  coffee  has  put  life  into  you,  I'll  find  you  lodgings, 
which  will  do  well  enough  until  we're  married." 

The  girl,  who  had  no  wrap,  must  have  been  chilled 
to  the  bone,  but  she  answered  gaily,  and  I  liked  her 
for  her  pluck. 

The  electric  bell  was  rung,  and  after  a  few  minutes' 
delay  a  side  door,  opening  from  a  stairway  which  led 
to  the  floor  above  the  garage,  was  noisily  unlocked. 
A  man  peeped  out,  and  at  sight  of  Fanning  flung  the 
door  wide,  exclaiming  in  French  at  the  surprise.  He 
was  tousled,  his  feet  bare  except  for  slippers,  and  he 
had  hastily  pulled  on  a  pair  of  trousers  over  a  flannel 
shirt. 

For  a  minute  the  two  gabbled  so  fast  that  I  could 
scarcely  catch  a  word,  but  presently  Fanning  began 
volubly  to  explain  that  he  had  "bought  for  nothing  at 
all" — this  was  strictly  true! — a  car  which  had  been 
badly  damaged  in  the  Vandervoorst  Cup  Race.  Now, 
he  wanted  to  keep  it  in  his  friend's  garage;  and  as  he 
had  seized  the  opportunity  afforded  him  by  the  auto- 
mobile of  running  away  with  a  young  lady  whose 
parents  objected  to  the  match,  he  prayed  his  cher 
Nicolas  to  give  him  and  the  car  secret  sanctuary.  No 
one  must  dream  that  he  and  his  fiancee  were  in  Nimes. 
They  would  be  married  as  soon  a%  possible,  and  mean- 
while Nicolas  must  order  a  new  body,  or,  better  still, 

188 


Champion 


find  one  that  would  answer  ready  made,  as  if  for  an 
automobile  of  his  own. 

Evidently  the  friendly  Nicolas  had  known  Fanning 
in  the  latter's  palmy  days;  and  not  dreaming  what  a 
man  of  straw  he  was  now  entertaining,  he  promised  to 
arrange  everything  to  his  good  Paul's  satisfaction. 
The  master  of  the  garage  was  introduced  with  much 
ceremony  to  the  charming  fiancee,  and  the  doors  being 
presently  opened,  I  was  driven  into  the  garage. 

It  proved  to  be  a  large  one,  with  several  inner 
rooms,  and  I  was  locked  up  in  one  of  these,  a  miser- 
able, homesick  automobile,  with  an  undying  sorrow 
gnawing  at  my  valves. 

There  were  so  many  things  which  I  longed  to  find 
out  that  I  was  glad  when,  after  an  hour  or  two, 
Nicolas  and  Fanning  returned  to  me,  with  another 
man.  They  looked  me  over  thoroughly,  and  the 
stranger,  whom  they  called  Monsieur  Soubise,  took 
a  number  of  measurements,  which  he  wrote  down  in  a 
note-book.  He  seemed  as  jolly  and  agreeable  as 
Nicolas,  and  asked  Fanning  questions  about  the  great 
race. 

They  all  talked  of  the  burning  of  Barr-Simons'  gar- 
age and  the  destruction  of  his  car,  and  I  could  tell 
by  their  conversation  that  the  news  had  been  in  the 
morning  papers.  The  chauffeur,  who  had  been  drunk 

at  the   time,   was   suspected,   and   Fanning   solemnly 

189 


Champion 

pronounced  the  opinion  that  the  fellow  was  a  worthless 
chap,  more  than  likely  to  be  guilty.  Neither  Nicolas 
nor  Soubise  said  a  word  about  the  Cameron  car  in 
connection  with  the  burnt  garage,  and  I  guessed  that 
Barr-Simons  had  talked  as  little  as  possible  about  its 
presence  there.  Those  who  knew  would  probably 
suppose  that  I  had  perished  in  the  fire  with  the  win- 
ning automobile. 

The  talk  did  turn,  however,  to  my  Master  and  me; 
for  we  had  made  our  mark  in  the  history  of  motoring 
before  we  were  treacherously  swept  off  the  field;  and 
I  don't  know  what  Fanning's  inward  feelings  must 
have  been  as  he  had  to  answer  questions  about  Mon- 
sieur Cameron  and  his  wonderful  invention.  It  was 
only  at  the  last  that  I  had  the  unspeakable  satisfaction 
of  hearing  from  a  word  dropped  by  Nicolas  that  my 
Master  still  lived. 

"They  say  he  may  get  well,  after  all,"  he  remarked. 
"And  if  the  papers  tell  truth,  Vandervoorst  is  taking 
a  great  interest  in  his  recovery." 

"That  must  annoy  Barr-Simons,"  said  Fanning, 
"for  it's  no  secret  that  he  was  jealous  of  Cameron, 
and  wouldn't  have  won  if  the  best  car  hadn't  been 
smashed." 

"This  automobile  seems  to  be  a  novelty,  and  of 
clever  design,"  observed  Soubise. 

"Paul  has  told  me  that  it  is  the  invention  of  a 

190 


Champion 

Monsieur  Henley,  who  has  made  a  twin  car  to  this, 
expecting  a  success,  but  thinks  nothing  of  either  now 
that  he  has  failed,"  explained  Nicolas. 

This  was  a  bold  stroke  of  Fanning's,  for  a  man 
named  Henley  had  actually  been  a  competitor.  I  had 
heard  my  Master  mention  the  name  to  Arnaud. 

Nothing  more  happened  to  me  for  the  next  few 
hours,  but  after  a  dark  interval  of  silence — save  for 
voices  of  men  and  motors  outside  my  closed  doors — 
Fanning  and  Nicolas  appeared  again,  to  superintend 
several  workmen  whom  they  let  loose  upon  me. 

I  had  had  fair  warning  what  my  fate  was  to  be, 
but  I  had  not  realized  how  bitterly  I  should  hate  it — 
how  keenly  I  should  feel  the  pain  and  humiliation 
of  the  change.  It  was  like  death  to  be  torn  to  pieces 
by  indifferent  hands  of  strangers,  who  stripped  off 
my  neat  racing-body  of  aluminum,  and  I  loathed  the 
smell  and  color  of  the  crimson  paint  with  which  my 
wheels  were  now  lavishly  smeared. 

Days  passed,  after  this  first  degradation,  each  one 
more  disagreeable  than  the  other.  Of  what  occurred 
outside  to  my  new  owners  I  could  only  conjecture, 
but  apparently  nothing  arose  to  mar  their  plans;  for 
Fanning  dropped  in  at  his  old  friend's  garage  from 
time  to  time,  and  was  always — outwardly,  at  least — 
in  a  jovial  mood.  One  afternoon  the  men  at  work 

upon  me  were  invited  to  drink  his  health  and  that  of 

191 


Champion 


"Madame,"  and  I  deduced  that  the  marriage  was  an 
accomplished  fact  If  there  had  been  difficulties  in 
the  way,  no  doubt  le  cher  Nicolas  had  helped  to  bridge 
them  over. 

As  to  the  things  which  happened  to  me,  I  was  only 
too  sure,  no  conjecture  being  needed.  My  bonnet  was 
altered  in  shape,  and  I  was  changed  from  an  all- 
conquering  racer  into  a  mere  touring  car,  with  a  great 
body  swelling  out  into  a  tonneau  behind  the  driver's 
seat,  and  having  a  roof  to  cover  both.  There  were 
glass  windows  and  screens,  and  springy  cushions  cov- 
ered with  crimson  leather,  and  the  paint  on  this  gor- 
geous erection  was  also  a  glaring  crimson,  to  match 
my  changed  wheels. 

Though  shorn  of  my  magical  propeller  and  so  al- 
tered that  even  Hugh  Cameron  himself  could  not 
have  recognized  me,  except  by  examining  my  engine, 
I  was  still  Champion — Champion  unchanged  at  heart, 
and  worthy  of  the  name,  because  of  my  superior 
powers.  There  was  little  consolation  in  this,  how- 
ever; indeed,  perhaps  it  but  made  the  pain  sharper 
to  know  myself  a  monarch,  while  to  the  rest  of  the 
world  I  was  no  more  than  any  other  showy,  high- 
powered  automobile,  conducting  rich  tourists  about 
the  country. 

Through   Nicolas,    Fanning  was   able  to  obtain    a 

new  number-plate;  exactly  how,  I  could  not  find  out, 

192 


Champion 

but  I  fancy  I  must  have  been  re-registered  in  Nicolas' 
name,  and  the  moment  my  red  paint  was  dry  I  was 
loaded  up  with  some  new,  smart-looking  luggage. 
This  was  a  sure  sign  that  we  were  about  to  start  off 
in  search  of  the  adventures  Paul  Fanning  had  prom- 
ised his  Marie;  and,  though  it  was  late  in  the  after- 
noon when  the  boxes  came,  I  took  it  for  granted  that 
we  should  get  off  at  once.  I  was  provided  with  lamps 
as  fine,  though  of  a  different  make  from  those  I  had 
worn  in  happier  times,  when  my  Master  took  me  out 
at  night  for  my  glorious  trial  spins;  therefore,  I 
would  be  well  able  to  turn  night  into  day;  and  I  was 
not  surprised  ,vhen  Marie  followed  the  luggage  into 
the  garage  within  half  an  hour  after  its  appearance. 

She  was  now  Yery  smart,  and  so  was  Fanning,  who 
preceded  her,  dressed  like  a  gentleman  chauffeur. 
Marie  had  fitted  herself  up  in  a  neat  but  jaunty  coat, 
which  reached  to  her  heels,  a  motoring-hat  with  pretty 
wings,  and  an  arrangement  of  chiffon  that  formed  a 
thick  scarf  and  veil.  How  the  pair  had  contrived  to 
obtain  these  things,  as  well  as  to  have  the  expensive 
changes  made  in  my  get-up,  I  could  not  imagine;  but 
I  expected  to  find  out  sooner  or  later  from  their  con- 
versation. 

They  bade  good-by  to  Monsieur  Nicolas,  and 
mounted  to  the  two  front  seats;  then  Fanning,  who 
had  taught  himself  the  intricacies  of  my  mechanism 

193 


Champion 

during  the   fortnight  of  waiting,  drove  me  grandly 
out  of  the  garage. 

I  noticed  how  carefully  Marie  had  swathed  her 
pretty  face  and  hair  with  folds  of  chiffon,  how  long 
were  the  tremendous  flaps  of  Fanning's  cap,  and  how 
like  a  mask  was  the  large  piece  of  leather  that  framed 
his  goggles.  "They  are  determined  not  to  be  recog- 
nized in  case  there  should  be  any  one  about  who  ever 
saw  them  before,"  I  said  to  myself;  but  I  was  to 
learn  presently  that  their  motive  for  hiding  their  faces 
was  more  subtle  than  I  imagined. 


194 


CHAPTER  XV. 

/  Become  an  Adventurer. 

We  had  not  been  out  of  the  garage  long  before  my 
new  owners  began  to  talk. 

"Well/'  said  Paul,  "off  at  last!    Are  you  happy?" 

"I  would  be,  if  I  hadn't  that  dear,  kind  little  Nico- 
las on  my  conscience,"  answered  his  Marie. 

"There  it  is!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  was  afraid  you 
weren't  cut  out  for  an  adventuress.  You  mustn't 
mind  things  like  that." 

"I  shouldn't,  if  he  were  rich.  I  want  only  rich 
people  to  pay.  And  he  was  so  trusting!  He  saw 
us  through  everything." 

"Nicolas  isn't  worrying.  I've  told  him  I  expect 
supplies  in  Monte  Carlo,  and  will  send  him  a  check 
to  cover  the  whole  sum;  and  I  mean  to  keep  my 
promise." 

"How?" 

"I  don't  know  yet.  That's  part  of  the  fun,  for  a 
born  gambler." 

"I  suppose  so.  I  mean  to  feel  like  that,  too,"  said 
Marie. 

Yet  she  sighed.  Paul  was  right.  She  wasn't  cut 
out  for  an  adventuress. 

195 


Champion 

We  drove  on  slowly,  through  beautiful  country, 
until  after  dark;  then  when  we  had  run  into  a  town 
called  Tarascon,  it  seemed  we  were  to  remain  for  the 
night.  We  stopped  at  a  large  hotel,  which  had  a  gar- 
age of  its  own,  into  which  I  was  taken,  and  there  I 
heard  Fanning  say  to  one  of  the  attendants  in  a  lordly 
way,  that  he  had  been  obliged  to  discharge  his  chauf- 
feur, and  was  in  immediate  want  of  another.  "The 
ungrateful  fellow  was  cheating  me  in  the  most  ama- 
zing manner,"  he  went  on,  "and  under  his  influence 
the  maid  of  Madame  la  Princesse  had  also  become  dis- 
honest. We  must  stay  here  until  we  can  find  a  com- 
petent man  and  woman  to  take  their  places." 

If  my  sense  of  humor  had  not  been  pretty  well 
knocked  out  of  me  during  the  last  black  fortnight,  I 
should  have  exploded  at  this  "Madame  la  Princesse." 
So  she  was  that  already!  And  it  was  impossible  for 
their  highnesses  to  give  themselves  the  pain  of  travel- 
ing farther  without  a  chauffeur  and  a  maid. 

The  attendant  was  all  servility  to  his  exalted  client. 
He  was  sure  that  he  would  be  able  to  recommend  to 
Monsieur  le  Prince  an  accomplished  young  man  who, 
if  not  used  to  driving  this  particular  make  of  car,  was 
so  experienced  that  after  one  trial  he  would  know  as 
much  of  the  automobile  as  Monsieur  himself.  As  for 
a  maid  for  Madame  la  Princesse,  she  would  have  to 

demand  advice  of  la  patronne  of  the  hotel,  and  voila, 

196 


Champion 

a  jewel  among  young  women,  would  immediately  be 
at  her  service. 

Next  morning  the  accomplished  young  man  was 
actually  forthcoming,  and  arrived  early  at  the  hotel 
garage,  with  the  view  of  being  inspected.  Monsieur 
le  Prince  did  not  send  for  him  to  his  apartments,  as 
the  chauffeur  evidently  expected,  but  presently  ap- 
peared in  person,  in  the  garage.  I  heard  his  voice,  and 
the  voice  of  the  Princess  before  I  saw  them ;  and  when 
they  did  saunter  into  my  line  of  vision,  I  had  a  shock 
of  surprise. 

Mary  Precious  had  had  pale  complexion,  with  eye- 
lashes and  brows  only  a  little  darker  than  her  brown 
hair.  Paul  Fanning  had  had  singularly  colorless  skin, 
with  auburn  hair  and  a  red  mustache.  But  the  Prin- 
cess possessed  masses  of  golden  hair  and  beauti- 
ful pink  cheeks.  In  contrast  with  this  gold,  her  eye- 
lashes and  eyebrows  looked  almost  black.  Altogether 
she  was  a  dazzling  being,  so  changed  that  I  should 
not  have  known  her  if  I  had  passed  her  in  the 
street. 

As  for  the  Prince,  his  hair  was  a  very  dark  brown ; 
his  skin  was  olive,  and  he  wore  no  mustache.  De- 
spite the  cleft  in  his  chin,  he  was  even  less  like  Paul 
Fanning,  if  possible,  than  Mary  Precious  was  like  the 
Princess. 

Now  I  knew  why  they  had  said  good-by  yester- 

m 


Champion 

day  to  Monsieur  Nicolas  with  their  faces  and  heads 
covered  from  sight  with  chiffon,  cloth,  and  leather. 
They  had  prepared  for  their  new  parts  before  starting, 
wholly  or  partially,  and  had  not  left  themselves  too 
much  to  do  after  arriving  at  the  first  stage  of  their 
journey. 

Paul  Fanning  and  his  bride  had  now  vanished  into 
space,  and  would  never  reach  Monte  Carlo,  whence 
Monsieur  Nicolas  was  expecting  to  hear  from  them; 
but  the  Prince  and  Princess  would  arrive  there,  and 
would  then,  perhaps,  take  upon  themselves  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Fanning's  obligations. 

The  chauffeur  was  introduced  to  the  Prince  and 
Princess  by  the  attendant  who  recommended  him,  and 
in  this  way  I  learned  their  highnesses'  names.  They 
were,  it  seemed,  Prince  and  Princess  Vasilievna,  who 
had  been  making  a  tour  of  France  in  their  automobile 
and  intended  to  motor  to  Monte  Carlo,  where  they 
would  stay  so  long  as  they  amused  themselves.  The 
young  man,  who  gave  his  name  as  Jacques  Potin,  was 
delighted  with  the  prospects  of  an  engagement  with 
such  exalted  personages.  He  was  smart-looking,  had 
plenty  of  credentials,  and  seemed  quick  at  picking  up 
hints  concerning  me.  He  had  never  seen  anything  like 
me  before,  it  became  evident  when  he  set  himself  to 
examine  and  master  my  mechanism;  but  he  was  too 
politic  to  express  surprise,  and  seemed  satisfied  when 


Champion 

the  Prince  mentioned  that  I  had  been  manufactured 
by  a  new  firm  in  St.  Petersburg;  that  I  was,  in  fact, 
the  first  successful  car  made  in  Russia.  He  mumbled 
a  jaw-breaking  name  which  apparently  suggested 
nothing  to  the  chauffeur;  but  Potin  was  too  wise  to 
say  so.  And  it  was  as  well,  perhaps,  that  he  did  not 
pretend  to  have  heard  it  before. 

Potin  was  duly  engaged;  and  he  and  the  Prince 
took  me  out  for  a  spin,  while  the  Princess  stopped  in 
the  house,  and,  presumably,  selected  a  maid  from 
among  various  applicants.  At  all  events,  when  we 
started  off  next  day,  there  was  a  neat,  dark  young 
woman  to  tuck  the  Princess  in,  and  arrange  the  hand- 
luggage.  She  did  not,  however,  go  on  with  us,  but 
was  sent  to  Marseilles  by  train,  where  she  was  to 
engage  rooms  for  her  master  and  mistress. 

If  my  own  affairs  had  not  been  going  so  badly,  I 
should  have  enjoyed  that  run  from  Tarascon  to  Mar- 
seilles. But,  great  lumbering,  red  bulk  that  I  was 
now,  bereft  of  my  Master  and  half  my  most  valued 
characteristics,  what  was  the  soft  southern  landscape 
to  me?  The  distant  mountains,  the  glimpses  of  deep, 
blue  sea,  the  dark  cypresses  and  silver  olives,  the 
rich  color  of  roses  and  scarlet  geraniums  spraying  over 
gray  walls,  only  made  me  the  sadder  for  their  beauty. 

After  London  and   Paris,   Marseilles  was  by   far 

the  biggest  town  that  I  had  seen  yet.     It  was  after- 

199 


Champion 

noon  when  we  arrived,  and  turned  into  the  glass- 
roofed  courtyard  of  a  white,  gaily  decorated  hotel. 
It  was  a  large  courtyard,  and  all  round  it  ran  a  slight- 
ly raised  platform,  covered  with  matting.  Here  and 
there,  against  the  white  house-wall,  stood  a  huge,  blue 
pot  containing  a  palm,  or  flowering  plant;  and  the 
many  green-painted  wicker  chairs,  grouped  round  little 
tables,  were  occupied  by  ladies  and  gentlemen  drink- 
ing tea. 

They  all  looked  up  with  interest  as  I  appeared;  but 
if  they  were  curious  about  me,  I  was  equally  curious 
concerning  them;  there  were  so  many  of  them,  and 
they  all — or  nearly  all — had  such  an  odd  sort  of  re- 
semblance to  one  another.  Whatever  else  they  might 
be,  they  were  English,  I  was  sure,  although  there  was 
something  different  about  them  from  any  other  Eng- 
lish people  I  had  seen.  The  men  were  all  dressed  in 
tweed  suits  and  brown  boots,  as  much  alike  as  pos- 
sible, and  even  their  neckties  were  tied  in  the  same 
way.  They  were  lean  and  bronzed;  their  hair  was 
very  short  and  very  neat ;  they  looked  as  if  they  were 
fresh  from  cold  baths,  and  most  of  them  had  an  air 
of  self-reliance  and  command,  as  if  accustomed  to 
order  and  to  be  obeyed.  The  ladies,  too,  might  almost 
have  been  sisters.  They  were  brown  and  thin,  like 
the  men,  and  all  seemed  to  be  of  the  same  age,  their 

simple,  but  well-made  dresses  cut   from  the  same 

200 


Champion 

pattern.  They  wore  coats  and  short  skirts  and  blouses, 
and  an  air  of  being  certain  they  were  right,  and  better 
than  other  women. 

I  was  wondering  where  these  people  could  have 
come  from,  and  if,  though  they  were  so  many,  they 
could  all  be  members  of  one  enormous  family,  when 
Paul  murmured  to  Marie,  as  he  helped  her  down: 
"Some  P.  and  O.  ship  must  be  just  in.  These  Anglo- 
Indians  won't  be  much  good  to  us,  I'm  afraid.  They 
never  have  any  money;  or  if  they  have,  they  know 
exactly  how  they  mean  to  spend  it.  Rich  Australians 
would  be  more  in  our  line,  as  pigeons  to  pluck." 

"I  see  two  who  look  as  if  they  were  made  for  us," 
Marie  whispered  back  to  him.  Her  eyes  had  been 
quicker  than  his,  but  some  suggestion  or  glance  of 
hers  telegraphed  him  the  right  direction  to  look,  and 
I  followed  his  example.  Just  round  the  shoulder  of 
my  tonneau  stood  a  tall  old  man  who  was  less  afraid 
of  betraying  an  open  interest  in  a  stranger's  automo- 
bile than  the  self-satisfied,  well-groomed  Anglo-Indian 
men  and  women.  He  was  not  at  all  self-satisfied, 
nor  was  he  particularly  well-groomed,  but  he  looked 
rich ;  and  so  did  the  youngish,  smartly  dressed  woman 
who  sat  by  the  tea-table  from  which  he  had  just  risen. 

He  had  a  shock  of  white  hair,  a  fat,  red  face,  coarse 
hands,  and  a  big  lumbering  body,  with  which  he  did 
not  seem  to  know  what  to  do.  The  least  experienced 


Champion 

automobile  would  have  known  at  first  glance  that  he 
was  not  a  gentleman,  and  to  a  motor  brought  up  as  I 
had  been  his  vulgarity  was  offensive.  Still,  he  had  a 
good-natured  expression,  and  so  had  his  wife,  though 
hers  was  mingled  with  silliness;  and  I  felt  sorry  for 
the  pair,  somehow,  they  seemed  so  isolated  from  the 
rest,  and  uncomfortably  conscious  of  their  isolation. 

"That's  a  fine  car — a  car  that  is  a  car,"  the  vulgar 
old  man  remarked  audibly  to  his  wife;  and  even  the 
Anglo-Indians  deigned  to  look  approving.  Several 
servants  in  the  hotel  livery  darted  to  help  the  chauf- 
feur unload. the  luggage;  the  landlord  came  out,  fol- 
lowed by  a  young  manager,  both  bowing  and  rubbing 
their  hands.  Altogether  I  began  to  understand  ex- 
actly what  Fanning  had  meant  when  he  assured  Marie 
that  there  was  no  more  certain  way  of  inspiring  con- 
fidence and  obtaining  respect — another  word  for  credit 
— than  touring  in  a  handsome  automobile. 

Their  highnesses  were  expected,  it  appeared,  for 
the  maid  Therese  had  arrived  in  advance,  and  had 
taken  a  suite  in  their  name.  People  allowed  them- 
selves to  warm  up  to  increasing  interest,  which  showed 
through  their  reserve,  as  they  learned  that  the  new- 
comers were  a  Prince  and  Princess,  but  my  owners  did 
not  put  on  any  grand  airs.  They  were  so  gracious  to 
the  landlord  and  his  servants,  speaking  sometimes  in 
French,  sometimes  in  English,  that  the  "pigeon"  was 

203 


Champion 

encouraged  to  hop  up  and  offer  himself  for  the 
plucking. 

"Nice  motor-car  you  have  there,  sir,"  he  ventured, 
looking  me  up  and  down,  edging  so  close  that  he  could 
have  touched  me  with  one  of  the  big  sledge-hammers 
that  were  his  hands. 

The  others  all  threw  toward  him  a  glance  of  scorn 
for  thus  putting  himself  forward,  but  he  was  so  eager 
to  enter  into  conversation  with  a  real  Prince  that  he 
was  not  disturbed  by  their  disapproval. 

"I  am  flattered  that  you  should  admire  it,"  said  his 
highness  in  English,  which  he  artistically  adorned 
with  a  slight  foreign  accent. 

Seeing  that  her  husband  was  not  going  to  be 
snubbed,  the  stout  young  woman  rose  and  sidled 
nearer  to  me.  "I  never  saw  one  as  handsome,  any- 
where, did  you,  Jos — Reginald?" 

If  there  could  be  one  name  less  suited  than  any  other 
to  the  red-faced  old  giant  it  was  the  name  of  Regi- 
nald; and  I  thought  he  answered  to  it  sheepishly,  as 
if  he  were  no  more  at  home  with  it  than  with  the  big 
seals  that  he  constantly  fingered  on  his  elaborate  gold 
watch-chain. 

"I  never  did,"  said  he.  "Would  you  think  it  a  lib- 
erty, sir,  if  I  should  ask  you  the  make,  and  whether 
it  can  be  got  in  this  part  of  the  country?  For,  as  a 

matter  of  fact,  my  wife  has  been  pestering  me  to  buy 

203 


Champion 

her  a  motor-car  of  some  sort,  as  soon  as  we  landed, 
and  I  should  be  happy  to  find  the  twin  of  this." 

"It  is  of  Russian  make,"  lied  my  Prince  glibly. 
"But  no  doubt  you  could  order  one  if  you  did  not 
mind  a  little  delay.  Meanwhile,  as  Madame  is  kind 
enough  to  fancy  mine,  we  shall  be  pleased,  before  we 
leave  to-morrow,  to  offer  you  both  a  little  run." 

"Goodness!  you  are  kind!"  exclaimed  the  stout 
young  woman,  turning  peony-red  with  joy.  "Regi- 
nald, why  don't  you  thank  the  Prince?" 

She  brought  out  the  last  word  in  a  loud  voice,  so 
that,  if  any  of  those  stiff  Anglo-Indians  had  failed 
to  catch  the  title,  they  might  hear  it  now. 

Poor  creature,  she  was  probably  thinking  that  if  a 
Prince  and  Princess  were  so  polite  to  her  and  her 
husband  at  first  sight,  they  could  not,  after  all,  be  such 
outsiders  as  their  shipmates'  manner  had  forced  them 
to  believe. 

"I  do  thank  you  sincerely,  in  the  name  of  my  wife 
and  myself,  and  we  accept  with  distinguished  pleas- 
ure," responded  the  old  man,  as  if  he  were  reading 
aloud  a  written  answer  to  an  invitation. 

"We  will  arrange  the  little  excursion  later,  then," 
said  the  Prince,  with  careless  pleasantness.  The  two 
ladies  bowed  to  each  other;  and  their  highnesses  then 
went  into  the  house,  leaving  the  chauffeur  to  attend 


Champion 

He  took  me  to  a  garage  which  belonged  to  the  hotel, 
and  so  far  as  fine  touring  cars  were  concerned  I  had 
the  place  practically  to  myself,  but  there  was  an  an- 
tiquated little  motor  of  a  modest  twelve  horse-power, 
which  was  the  property  of  the  landlord,  and  I  learned 
from  her  that  there  was  not  much  doing  in  our  way 
at  Marseilles.  Touring  motorists  seldom  stayed  the 
night;  and  she  would  have  liked  to  know  why  I  was 
stopping,  but  I  gave  her  an  evasive  answer. 

I  was  left  to  myself  for  the  night  by  my  owners, 
but  I  had  a  good  cleaning  up  from  the  chauffeur,  who 
was  visited  while  he  was  at  work  by  the  French  maid. 
He  was  a  smart-looking  young  fellow;  she  was  far 
from  a  plain  girl;  and,  both  being  young,  naturally 
they  had  already  discovered  an  affinity.  They  began 
by  talking  of  their  master  and  mistress,  in  whose  title 
and  importance  it  was  clear  that,  so  far,  they  be- 
lieved; but  when  they  had  exhausted  the  question  of 
the  Prince's  probable  generosity,  the  mysterious  new- 
ness and  fewness  of  the  Princess'  frocks,  her  singular 
lack  of  jewels,  the  politeness  of  the  landlord,  the  hand- 
someness of  the  suite  of  rooms  engaged,  the  couple 
fell  to  discussing  their  own  affairs.  They  were  hon- 
est, as  far  as  I  could  judge,  but  vastly  curious,  and 
eager  to  save  money  for  the  future.  "If  the  ship  is 
sinking,"  said  I  to  myself,  "these  rats  will  be  the 

first  to  leave  it."    And  I  wondered  how  I  should  be 

205 


Champion 

involved  when  the  wreck  came — as  it  must  come  one 
day. 

Next  morning,  about  nine  o'clock,  I  was  taken 
round  to  the  hotel  door  by  the  chauffeur  under  the 
direction  of  his  master.  In  the  courtyard  reposed  the 
luggage  I  had  carried  the  day  before,  but  close  beside 
it  other  luggage  equally  expensive-looking,  if  a  little 
more  weather-beaten,  was  neatly  piled.  To  my  sur- 
prise, and  somewhat  to  my  resentment,  I  was  loaded 
up  with  the  whole  quantity,  most  of  which  was  stacked 
on  my  roof — a  structure  which  I  detested  as  much  as  a 
hunchback  must  detest  his  hump. 

Then,  when  all  was  ready,  out  came  the  Prince  and 
Princess,  accompanied  by  the  old  red  giant  and  his 
stout  young  wife.  As  for  the  Anglo-Indians,  they  had 
disappeared,  having  no  doubt  taken  train  for  home; 
and,  though  it  may  have  been  snobbish,  I  was  not 
sorry  that  they  should  be  unable  to  see  me  boarded  by 
the  common  pair,  who  were  not  at  all  the  sort  of  peo- 
ple my  Master  had  intended  me  to  cart  about  Europe. 

This  time  Potin  was  sitting  at  his  master's  feet  so 
that  the  giant  could  sit  by  the  Prince  in  the  place  next 
to  the  driver's  seat,  and  his  wife,  with  the  Princess, 
could  have  the  roomy  tonneau  to  themselves.  Therese 
again  went  on  by  train.  We  were  en  route  for  Monte 
Carlo,  and  I  soon  picked  up  enough  scraps  of  informa- 
tion from  the  talk  between  the  two  men  on  the  front 

206 


Champion 

seat  to  make  out  that,  instead  of  taking  a  short  run 
with  us,  our  guests  were  going  all  the  way.  I  put  two 
and  two  together  in  my  cylinders,  and  saM  to  myself 
that  the  pair  of  pigeons  must  have  been  enticed  with 
a  good  deal  of  judiciously  scattered  corn  during  the 
first  evening  of  their  acquaintance.  I  called  up  the 
scene :  the  Prince  and  Princess  affable  and  condescend- 
ing, the  pigeons  preening  themselves  in  the  warmth  of 
their  highnesses'  graciousness,  delightedly  displaying 
the  new  friendship  with  which  they  were  honored, 
under  the  indifferent  eyes  of  their  late  shipmates,  who 
had  not  cared  to  associate  with  them. 

Again  and  again  the  old  man  exclaimed  at  the 
Prince's  goodness  in  taking  them  on  to  Monte  Carlo, 
where  they  had  meant  to  travel'by  train,  just  to  "have 
a  look  at  the  Riviera"  before  going  to  England.  It 
was  a  pleasure,  said  the  Prince.  It  was  the  great- 
est kindness  he  had  ever  experienced  or  was  likely  to 
experience,  said  the  pigeon,  and  he  and  Emmie  would 
remember  it  as  long  as  they  lived.  I  thought  that  in 
all  probability  they  would,  but  perhaps  not  in  exactly 
the  way  their  grateful  souls  supposed. 

The  pigeon's  name,  I  soon  discovered,  was  Ruggles 
— J.  R.  Ruggles,  of  some  outlandish  and  unpronounce- 
able town  in  Australia.  Emmie,  his  wife,  had  taken 
advantage  of  the  middle  initial  to  call  him  Reginald, 

but  I  don't  think  their  highnesses  believed   in   that 

207 


Champion 

"Reginald"  any  more  than  I  did.  What  they  did  be- 
lieve in  was  the  Ruggles'  money;  and  there  was  every 
sign  that  it-  at  least  was  genuine  and  plentiful.  The 
Ruggles  type  is  not  clever  enough  to  start  off  on  a 
career  as  adventurer  and  adventuress;  they  are  born 
to  be  pigeons,  and  pigeons  they  will  be  while  they 
have  feathers  to  pluck. 

Mr.  Ruggles  confessed  his  complete  ignorance  of 
French  and  of  any  other  language  except  English — 
English  as  it  was  spoken  where  he  and  Emmie  came 
from.  He  had  hesitated  to  attempt  to  tour  in  Europe, 
but  Emmie  had  given  him  no  peace;  and  now  here 
they  were,  very  happy  so  far,  and  fortunate,  it  was 
true;  but  what  would  become  of  them  when  they  had 
been  dropped  down  at  Monte  Carlo,  and  had  no  longer 
the  wonderful  kindness  of  the  Prince  and  Princess 
Vasilievna  to  depend  upon,  he  was  hanged  if  he  knew! 

"If  we  can  be  of  help  to  you  and  Madame,"  said 
the  Prince,  "there  is  no  reason  why  we  should  part 
company  directly  we  arrive  at  Monte  Carlo.  My  wife 
is  English,  though  she  has  lived  much  abroad;  and  to 
hear  the  English  language  is  a  joy  to  her.  You  are 
almost  the  same  as  English,  is  it  not?  Australians 
are  children  of  the  old  country.  My  wife  is  but  a 
girl;  we  have  not  been  married  long,  and  it  will  be  a 
pleasure  to  her  to  have  the  friendship  of  a  lady  so 

nearly  English.    What  we  can  do  for  you,  we  will  do 

208 


Champion 

gladly;  a  little  translating,  a  few  hints,  perhaps,  as 
to  the  customs  of  the  country." 

"I — I  really  don't  know  how  to  thank  you,  Prince," 
stammered  poor  Ruggles,  "and  no  more  will  Emmie. 
You  are  almost  Royalties,  if  you  aren't  quite,  and 
we  only  plain  folk,  with  nothing  to  recommend  us  to 
such  as  you — for  what's  our  money  to  princes  and 
princesses,  though  it  may  make  us  somebodies  in  our 
own  part?" 

"What,  indeed?"  echoed  the  Prince  airily,  as  he 
drove  me  along  the  exquisite  road.  "It  is  your  kind 
hearts  which  recommend  you  to  us.  Is  there  not 
some  saying  in  English  as:  'Kind  hearts  are  more 
than  coronets  ?' ' 

"Well,  only  to  think  of  your  knowing  that,  and 
taking  stock  of  it — and  you  Russian,  too!"  exclaimed 
the  giant. 

"Russians  are  human,"  said  the  Prince.  "And  when 
we  feel  a  kindness  for  people  we  do  not  forget." 

So  they  went  on,  paying  compliments  to  each  other; 
and  every  now  and  then  I  caught  a  few  sentences  of 
the  ladies'  conversation  in  the  tonneau.  Little  Marie, 
though  too  genial  in  nature  for  the  typical  adventuress, 
was  an  actress  born ;  and  her  stories  of  her  husband's 
magnificent  palace  in  St.  Petersburg,  his  vast  ancestral 
estates  in  the  country,  must  have  been  dazzling  enough 

to  the  nouveau  riche  Australian  woman. 

209 


Champion 

"Isn't  the  Prince  the  gentleman  on  whose  estates 
such  a  splendid  lot  of  oil  has  just  been  discovered?" 
asked  the  respectful  Emmie.  "Reginald  told  me  that 
Vasilievna  was  the  name  he'd  read  in  the  newspapers 
— something  about  a  company  which  was  just  going  to 
be  formed?" 

"Yes,  that  is  my  husband's  estate,"  replied  Marie 
tranquilly.  "There  will  be  a  rush  for  the  shares,  I 
believe,  though  I  know  very  little  of  business.  People 
will  not  get  all  they  ask  for.  But  half  are  my  hus- 
band's; and  he  will  part  with  a  few  of  his  to  friends 
for  whom  he  cares  the  most ;  I  know  he  has  promised 
some  to  a  cousin  of  mine  in  England.  But  I  mustn't 
chatter  on  like  this  about  such  things.  He  wouldn't 
wish  it.  He  is  very  old-fashioned  in  some  of  his  ideas, 
and  says  women  should  not  talk  of  men's  affairs." 

"But  you  wouldn't  mind  my  just  telling  Reginald, 
would  you?"  asked  Mrs.  Ruggles.  "He  has  plenty 
of  money ;  but  he's  like  other  men  of  affairs,  he  always 
wants  a  chance  of  making  more;  and  now  he'll  be 
dying  to  buy  Vasilievna  oil  shares  the  minute  they 
come  on  the  market." 

"Oh,  I'm  afraid  they're  oversubscribed,  or  whatever 
they  call  it,  already,"  said  the  Princess.  "But  rather 
than  disappoint  your  husband,  I  will  speak  to  mine,  and 
beg  him  to  let  Mr.  Ruggles  have  a  few  of  his  shares. 

You  are  not  old  friends,  to  be  sure;  but  you  are  the 

210 


Champion 

first  friends  we  have  made  since  we  came  into  France, 
and  I  am  sentimental  about  such  things." 

At  this  I  gave  a  little  snort,  which  made  the  Prince 
think  that  something  was  wrong  with  my  silencer; 
but  I  controlled  myself  instantly,  and  glided  on. 

Now  I  began  to  see  their  highnesses'  game.  There 
was  no  longer  any  mystery  as  to  their  choice  of  a  title. 
Paul  Fanning  was  the  sort  of  man  who,  once  em- 
barked on  a  scheme,  would  carry  it  off  bravely;  and 
probably  he  had  reminded  himself  that  the  boldest 
course  is  often  the  safest.  Evidently  there  was  a 
Prince  Vasilievna,  living,  perhaps,  in  such  a  remote 
corner  of  Russia  that  it  was  not  likely  he  would  be 
personally  known  by  his  few  pleasure-seeking  country- 
men still  lingering  on  the  Riviera.  And  the  name 
was  to  be  a  source  of  revenue  to  the  pair  who  had  an- 
nexed it.  These  Australian  pigeons  would  not  be  the 
only  ones  to  be  plucked,  I  prophesied,  nor  would  others 
be  long  in  following  their  example.  I  told  myself  that 
I  should  not  be  surprised  if  the  generous  Prince  proved 
willing  to  spare  a  great  many  of  his  own  shares  in  the 
oil  company  to  friends  of  his. 

I  was  ashamed  to  be  a  partner,  even  a  silent  partner, 
in  such  a  scheme  as  this  that  was  opening  out  before 
me;  but,  bad  as  it  was,  I  preferred  being  mixed  up 
in  it  to  the  fate  I  should  have  suffered  in  the  hands  of 
Barr-Simons.  I  could  not  help  being  a  little  excited, 

211 


Champion 

too,  as  to  what  would  come  next ;  and  magically  lovely 
as  the  country  was — far  more  enchanting  than  any- 
thing I  had  seen — I  let  some  of  the  best  features  of 
the  fairylike  landscape  pass  almost  unnoticed,  while  I 
thought  my  own  thoughts,  and  listened  alternately  to 
the  talk  of  the  two  men  on  the  front  seat,  and  the  two 
women  in  the  tonneau. 

By  the  time  we  had  got  as  far  as  Cannes,  the  hotel 
at  Monte  Carlo,  where  the  four  would  stop  together, 
had  been  settled  upon;  and  among  the  many  kind 
things  the  Pfince  and  Princess  had  promised  to  do 
for  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ruggles  was  to  help  them  choose 
some  jewels.  The  dear  Princess  was  so  surprised  to 
hear  that  Mrs.  Ruggles  had  as  yet  no  tiara  and  no 
rope  of  pearls — not  even  a  diamond  dog-collar! — that 
the  poor  lady  decided  not  an  hour  must  be  lost  before 
she  supplied  herself  with  the  articles  in  question, 
which,  if  not  exactly  necessaries  of  life,  appeared  to 
be  necessaries  of  high  life. 

She  had,  she  explained  apologetically,  only  been 
waiting  until  she  arrived  at  a  place  where  one  could 
make  the  best  selection;  she  had  thought  of  Paris,  a 
few  weeks  later.  But  when  the  Princess  spoke  of  the 
operas  at  Monte  Carlo,  where  one  must  vie  with  the 
crowned  heads  of  Europe,  Mrs.  Ruggles  saw  at  once 
that  there  was  not  an  hour  to  lose  in  fitting  herself 

out  for  the  brilliant  contest. 

212 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

/  Am  Dragged  into  Strange  Schemes. 

If  it  could  afford  any  consolation  to  me,  at  least  I 
was  seeing  the  world ;  and  many  a  motor  would,  I  sup- 
pose, gladly  have  been  in  my  tires. 

I  found  Monte  Carlo  even  more  dazzling  than  I  had 
expected  from  the  stories  I  overheard  the  Prince  tell- 
ing Mr.  Ruggles.  Perhaps  if  I  could  have  got  into  the 
Casino,  which,  judging  from  the  talk,  seemed  to  be 
the  center  of  interest  there,  I  might  have  been  even 
more  impressed ;  but,  though  I  saw,  as  we  passed,  that 
I  could  easily  have  mounted  the  gradient  of  the  front 
steps,  I  should  have  stuck  in  the  door.  I  had  to  be 
satisfied  with  the  garage,  to  which  Potin  drove  me 
when  the  passengers  had  been  deposited  at  a  fine  hotel, 
entered  through  a  beautiful  garden  of  palms  and 
climbing  roses.  It  was  by  far  the  grandest  garage  I 
had  seen  yet,  and  the  cars  it  housed  were  of  the  most 
aristocratic  rank,  hardly  one  without  a  crown  on  its 
panels,  or  at  worst  a  coat  of  arms.  Perhaps  I  should 
have  been  a  little  jealous  of  one  or  two  of  the  most 
magnificent,  if  I  had  not  been  deeply  conscious  of 
my  real,  inward  worth,  far  beyond  their  meretricious 

attractions — if  only  they  had  known. 

213 


Champion 

But  they  did  not  know,  and  such  cars  as  had  been 
undisputed  rulers  of  the  garage  until  I  arrived,  were 
inclined  to  be  standoffish.  They  glared  at  me  with 
their  big  lamps  as  much  as  to  say  "Who  is  he?"  But 
I  bore  a  Prince's  coronet — trust  Paul  Fanning  for 
such  details — and  when  to  a  question,  I  answered  that 
I  was  of  ninety  horse-power,  it  was  seen  that  there 
could  no  longer  be  an  excuse  for  superciliousness, 
whether  I  were  to  be  admitted  into  the  garage  circle 
on  friendly  terms  or  not. 

I  was  not  taken  out  again  on  the  day  of  our  arrival ; 
and  that  night,  when  even  the  latest-working  mechanic 
had  gone  away,  there  was  a  good  deal  of  talk  among 
the  automobiles  who  had  known  each  other  longest, 
and  much  exchange  of  confidences.  Their  masters 
and  chauffeurs  would  have  been  astonished,  I  am  sure, 
if  they  could  have  heard  what  their  motors  really 
thought  of  them.  According  to  these  critical  cars, 
there  was  scarcely  one  good  driver  among  the  lot,  and 
many  complained  of  severe  pains  in  their  gear-boxes, 
due  to  careless  changing.  One,  standing  next  to  me 
— a  very  fine-bodied  automobile,  of  considerable  power 
and  esprit — assured  his  best  friend,  an  elderly  but 
gentlemanlike  German  car,  that  as  two  of  his  teeth  had 
been  broken  that  very  day,  he  didn't  see  how  he  could 
possibly  run  to-morrow. 

The  belle  of  the  garage  was  a  beautiful  Mercedes,  so 

214 


Champion 

young  that  she  need  fear  comparison  with  no  other 
automobile  even  of  the  newest  fashion.  But,  like  most 
feminine  cars,  she  was  a  gossip,  and  consoled  herself 
for  the  reputation  she  had  to  keep  up  for  silence  while 
running,  by  carburating  some  bit  of  scandal  or  other 
for  every  minute  that  the  more  serious  cars  would 
listen  to  her.  It  was  wonderful  how  much  knowledge 
of  her  owner's  affairs  Mercedes  had  contrived  to 
pick  up  while  running  them  about;  and  if  I  had  not 
lately  been  painted  a  rich  crimson  color,  I  should  have 
turned  red  of  my  own  volition  at  some  of  the  anecdotes 
she  related. 

When  she  had  told  everything  she  could  think  of 
about  her  people  and  herself,  this  smart  car  deigned 
to  take  notice  of  me. 

"Your  shade  goes  nicely  with  mine,"  said  she,  "bet- 
ter than  that  of  any  Body  here.  That  crimson  of 
yours  is  exactly  the  thing  to  set  off  my  dark  green.  I 
shall  run  in  next  to  you  to-morrow  if  you'll  contrive 
to  be  in  the  same  place;  or,  if  I  get  in  first,  you  must 
shove  yourself  in  close  to  me.  If  you  have  the  right 
way  with  your  chauffeur,  you  can  easily  make  him 
think  he's  doing  it  himself.  That's  my  trick  to  man- 
age mine.  What  is  your  make,  pray?  I'm  sure,  by 
your  appearance,  it  must  be  something  good.  I  have 
some  very  nice  cousins,  F.I.A.T.'s;  perhaps  we  shall 
find  out  that  we're  distantly  related,  or,  at  least,  that 

2I5 


Champion 

some  of  the  same  petrol  runs  through  our  tanks.  Any- 
how, we  are  certain  to  discover  that  we  have  mutual 
friends,  if  you  will  tell  me  all  about  yourself." 

This  was  the  last  thing  I  wished  to  do  with  such 
an  auto-cat;  and  I  answered  with  a  discreet  blending 
of  politeness  and  evasiveness.  I  could  not  let  myself 
be  looked  down  upon  by  my  companions,  who  fancied 
themselves  so  extremely  exclusive;  therefore,  I  hinted 
that  I  was  of  a  make  so  new,  that  in  their  experience 
as  touring  cars  my  fame  could  hardly  yet  have  reached 
their  valves,  though  it  was  likely  to  do  so  soon.  I 
added  that  my  owner  was  a  person  of  importance  in 
the  automobile  world.  (That  was  true  indeed,  if  he 
still  lived,  my  poor  Hugh!)  and  that  my  adventures, 
if  related,  would  surprise  any  car.  I  could  not,  how- 
ever, speak  of  them,  owing  to  private  reasons. 

"One  thing  I  should  like  to  know,  before — perhaps 
— letting  my  acquaintance  with  you  ripen  into  friend- 
ship," said  Mercedes,  "and  that  is:  whether  you  are 
really  air-cooled  ?  I've  always  wanted  to  meet  an  air- 
cooler,  and  there  are  those  here  who  believe  you  to 
be  one." 

I  admitted  that  they  were  right,  and  Mercedes 
seemed  inclined  to  think  the  more  highly  of  me.  But 
a  big  car  from  Paris  which  had  been  her  favorite  till 
I  came  in,  grumbled  to  his  own  engine.  "Pooh,  I  can't 

think  why  the  makers  aren't  satisfied  with  us  as  we 

216 


Champion 

are,"  he  whiffled ;  "air-cooling,  indeed !  it  never  has  suc- 
ceeded and  never  will.  What's  the  automobile  world 
coming  to  in  these  days  of  experiments  with  queer- 
looking  spring-wheels,  and  all  sorts  of  radical  horrors? 
Give  me  a  good  honeycomb  radiator  and  pneumatics, 
say  I,  with  a  gear-driven  pump  and  a  litre  or  two  of 
water;  I  don't  ask  more." 

Evidently  I  was  expected  to  retort;  and  if  I  had 
there  might  have  been  a  collision  next  day;  but,  after 
all  I  had  gone  through,  such  squabbling  for  the  sake 
of  petty  jealousy  seemed  infinitely  trivial,  and  I  did 
not  even  trouble  myself  to  answer.  Indeed,  I  pre- 
tended to  have  gone  to  sleep  in  the  midst  of  his  speech ; 
and  presently  all  the  other  motors — most  of  whom 
felt  the  need  of  resting  for  the  morrow — followed  my 
example. 

Potin  was  evidently  anxious  to  please  the  Prince, 
his  master,  for  he  appeared  early  at  the  garage  on  the 
morning  after  our  arrival  at  Monte  Carlo.  He  was 
happy,  whistling  as  he  worked — maybe  he  would  whis- 
tle for  his  money,  by  and  by ! — prying  conscientiously 
about  for  dirt  and  grit,  visiting  every  crevice  and  cor- 
ner with  a  velvety  piece  of  new  chamois  leather,  filling 
up  my  tank  with  cool  petrol,  strained  through  a  deli- 
cate sieve,  and  stuffing  my  gear-box  with  the  best 
quality  of  grease,  suitable  to  the  car  of  a  touring 

prince.     He  drew  off  from  my  crank-chamber  all  the 

217 


Champion 

dirty  oil  that  had  accumulated  there  and  would  have 
spoiled  my  temper  for  the  day,  if  it  had  been  left,  and 
soothed  my  feelings  with  a  generous  supply  of  the 
finest  lubricating-oil  such  as  I  had  begun  to  look  for 
when  I  saw  the  tins,  and  to  be  discontented  if  I  didn't 
get.  As  far  as  treatment  was  concerned,  apparently 
I  was  not  to  have  much  to  complain  of.  Adventurer 
as  my  new  owner  was,  he  was  not  bad  enough  to  ex- 
pect a  car  to  do  its  best  when  whirling  its  crank-head 
round  in  a  mess  of  gritty  oil,  dashing  the  stuff  up  into 
the  cylinders,  scoring  their  surfaces,  perhaps,  and  los- 
ing compression.  I  was  grateful  to  him  for  that;  and 
I  said  to  myself,  "After  all,  it  isn't  my  business  if  my 
oil  and  petrol,  or  even  my  chauffeur's  work,  is  never 
paid  for." 

When  Potin  had  overhauled  me  thoroughly  there 
certainly  was  not  as  smart-looking  a  car  in  the  big 
garage;  and,  though  I  myself  objected  to  my  changed 
appearance,  there  was  some  slight  solace  in  finding  it 
superior  to  that  of  others — others  who  thought  them- 
selves perfection.  Just  as  Potin  had  set  my  motor 
going,  and  I  had  begun  to  purr  with  a  sense  of  physical 
well-being  which  triumphed  momentarily  over  gloomy 
memories,  the  Princess'  maid  appeared,  looking  pi- 
quant and  attractive. 

She  had  been  sent  out  on  an  errand,  it  appeared — to 

buy  some  gloves  of  a  certain  shade  for  her  mistress 

218 


Champion 

— and,  as  it  was  scarcely  out  of  the  way,  she  had 
dropped  in  at  the  garage  to  say  good  morning  to  Mon- 
sieur Potin. 

"You  were  not  at  breakfast,  poor  young  man!"  she 
exclaimed. 

"No,"  said  he,  "the  car  was  wanted  early.  I 
wouldn't  let  her  go  out  in  an  unworthy  condition.  I 
have  my  pride,  as  you  have.  Would  you  not  be 
ashamed  to  recognize  Madame  in  the  street,  if  you 
hadn't  done  her  hair  properly  ?  Eh  bien,  it  is  the  same 
thing." 

Therese  chuckled  at  this,  and  pinched  Potin's  arm, 
whereupon  Potin  pulled  her  ear;  and  I  saw  that  their 
friendship  had  grown  a  good  deal  in  the  last  twenty- 
four  hours.  Therese  told  him  of  a  breakfast  conver- 
sation she  had  had  with  the  maid  of  a  certain  Austrian 
Countess  and  the  valet  of  the  Count.  Evidently  all 
had  made  acquaintance  the  night  before,  at  dinner, 
perhaps,  and  Potin  did  not  seem  surprised  to  hear  that 
the  new  friends  wished  to  have  a  spin  with  "his  car." 

"Say  that  I  will  take  her  and  her  fiance  the  first 
day  that  we  have  this  happy  combination;  Monsieur 
le  Prince  not  wishing  to  go  out,  and  Madame  la  Prin- 
cesse  not  needing  the  services  of  Mademoiselle  The- 
rese," replied  Potin  gallantly.  And  I  realized  that, 
good  chauffeur  as  he  might  be,  he  was  not  above  de- 
ceiving his  master.  This  mattered  little  to  me,  how- 

219 


Champion 

ever.  I  had  none  of  the  loyalty  for  Fanning  that  I 
had  for  my  one  true  Master,  and  I  did  not  worry  my 
crank-head  about  any  tricks  that  might  be  played 
upon  him. 

Therese  did  not  stop  more  than  five  minutes,  as  she 
dared  not  keep  her  mistress  waiting  too  long  for  the 
gloves.  Potin  promised  to  give  her  time  for  her  er- 
rand before  he  arrived  with  me  at  the  hotel;  and,  true 
to  his  word,  Therese  was  just  hurrying  in  at  the  door 
when  we  drew  up  before  it,  with  a  magnificent  curve. 
Early  as  it  still  was,  the  Prince  and  Princess  must  have 
been  in  the  great  hall,  for  almost  immediately  they 
came  out,  very  well  dressed  and  prosperous-looking, 
the  Princess  drawing  on  the  pale  gray  gloves  her  maid 
had  just  brought  in. 

She  sat  with  her  husband  on  the  front  seat,  Potin 
relegated  to  the  tonneau,  and  they  talked  together  in 
English,  a  language  of  which  they  had  already  care- 
fully ascertained  that  the  chauffeur  knew  not  one 
word. 

"We  must  hurry  with  our  errands,"  said  Fanning, 
"or  the  Ruggles  will  be  down.  I  don't  want  them  to 
know  we've  been  out  to  the  shops  together  before 
taking  them." 

"The  shopkeepers  may  give  us  away,"  answered 
Marie. 

"Not  they.     I'll  see  to  that.     They'll  recognize  me 
220 


Champion 

with  a  bow,  of  course,  but  it  will  seem  that  they  re- 
member me  from  another  season,  when  I  was  here  en 
garcon.  As  for  you,  you  will  not  go  into  any  of  the 
jewelers  with  me  this  morning.  I  will  drop  you  at 
the  milliner's  and  call  for  you  afterward." 

"We  needn't  have  waited  for  the  car.  We  could 
have  walked,  and  started  earlier,"  said  Marie. 

"My  child!  You're  still  an  amateur.  Don't  you 
understand  that  the  shopkeepers  must  see  the  car? 
It's  our  principal  stock-in-trade — our  background.  A 
yacht  would  be  better — a  yacht  anchored  in  the  Bay 
of  Hercules.  We'd  give  parties  on  board ;  royal  high- 
nesses and  dukes  would  come  to  tea  every  day.  But 
never  mind — that's  the  next  item  on  our  program. 
We  must  make  the  best  of  what  we  have  for  the  pres- 
ent ;  and  it  strikes  me  we  aren't  beginning  badly.  Now, 
what  do  you  say  to  this  Magasin  de  Confections?  Is 
it  smart  enough  for  you?" 

"Oh,  what  divine  hats  and  dresses !"  breathed  Marie. 

Her  Prince  brought  me  to  a  standstill  in  front  of  a 
shop  whose  windows  were  attractive  enough  to  dazzle 
a  real  Princess. 

"Order  a  hat,"  said  Fanning,  as  Potin  got  down  to 
help  the  Princess  to  descend.  "Tell  them  to  send 
round  a  lot  of  things  to  the  hotel  for  you  to  try  on 
afterward — things  you  think  Mrs.  Ruggles  would  like. 

Say  you  want  a  friend  to  see  some  of  them  as  well  as 

221 


Champion 

yourself.  Make  Mrs.  Ruggles  fit  herself  out  from  this 
shop,  and  after  that  they'll  be  only  too  thankful  to  you 
for  running  up  as  big  a  bill  as  you  please.  If  you 
should  happen  to  forget  to  pay  when  you  go,  you 
needn't  worry;  the  Ruggles'  purchases  will  have  more 
than  recouped  them;  places  like  this  always  charge 
treble  prices,  so  the  people  who  do  pay,  pay  for  those 
who  don't." 

Marie  disappeared  behind  a  glass  door  which  was 
obsequiously  opened  for  her,  and  we  went  on,  across 
the  big  Place  in  front  of  the  Casino.  There  we  drew 
up  again  in  front  of  a  shop  like  a  palace  of  glass, 
blazing  with  gems;  tiaras;  crowns;  stomachers;  belts 
of  brilliants;  life-size  diamond  snakes  with  ruby  or 
emerald  heads;  bags,  big  and  little,  of  gold  netting 
fringed  and  patterned  with  jewels,  or  shaped  like 
owls,  or  rabbits,  with  precious  stones  for  eyes;  cases 
of  rings;  ropes  of  pearl;  collar  and  necklaces  like  shim- 
mering rivers  of  electric  light.  It  was  a  wonderful 
show,  and  must  mean  countless  thousands  of  pounds. 
My  cylinders  grew  a  little  hotter  than  they  ought  to 
have  been  as  I  wondered  how  many  thousands  of  those 
pounds  I  should  be  forced  to  carry  away.  Built  as 
I  had  been  for  honor  and  not  for  shame,  I  felt  that, 
if  my  real  Master  passed  me  now,  I  should  drop  to 
pieces  with  mortification. 

At  sight  of  a  client  driving  up  in  a  fine  car  thus  late 

222 


HE    ACCOMPANIED     HIS    CLIENT     ...     TO     THE     EDGE    OF    THE 
PAVEMENT." 

(/.  223.) 


Champion 

in  the  season,  the  unwary  proprietor  rushed  to  open 
the  door.  The  Prince  walked  in  with  an  air,  Potin 
standing  cap  in  hand,  as  the  servant  of  so  grand  a 
personage  should  do. 

Soon,  I  saw  a  hand  selecting  jewels  from  the  win- 
dow; a  splendid  diamond  necklace,  and  a  two-yard- 
long  rope  of  huge  glistening  pearls  were  withdrawn. 
Later  a  case  of  rings  followed;  a  gold  bag;  three  or 
four  jeweled  bangles,  and  a  dog-collar  of  brilliants. 

"Is  the  shopman  going  to  be  such  a  fool  as  to  let 
a  stranger  walk  off  with  his  things,  just  because  he 
happens  to  have  a  big,  red  motor-car  and  a  smart 
chauffeur?"  I  wondered  in  contemptuous  pity.  But, 
whatever  the  Prince's  game  was,  I  had  not  fathomed 
it  yet.  He  came  out  presently  without  the  jewels ;  yet 
the  shopkeeper  seemed  far  from  disappointed.  He 
accompanied  his  client  not  only  to  the  door,  but  to  the 
edge  of  the  oavement,  thanking  him  profusely  for  his 
"kind  promises." 

"Just  keep  those  things  until  I  can  bring  the  Princess 
in  to  see  them,  or  until  she  is  going  to  be  at  home,  and 
I  can  have  them  sent  round,"  said  Fanning,  "privately, 
you  know.  I  don't  want  my  Australian  friends  to 
think  me  selfish,  in  coming  to  take  the  pick  of  your 
windows  for  my  wife,  before  they  have  a  chance  to 
look  in;  still,  one  naturally  desires  the  pleasure  of  one's 

own  wife  before  that  of  other  women." 

223 


Champion 

"But  certainly,  Monsieur  le  Prince.  The  jewels  I 
have  laid  aside  will  not  be  spoken  of  or  shown  when 
you  are  so  gracious  to  my  establishment  as  to  bring 
your  friends.  I  was  most  stupid  not  to  have  remem- 
bered your  highness  at  first  sight  from — two  seasons 
ago  you  say  it  was? — but  it  is  only  the  fault  of  my 
poor  eyes,  which  are  not  so  strong." 

Now  I  began  to  see  into  the  mystery,  and  to  respect 
my  owner's  cleverness  as  I  respected  no  other  of  his 
qualities!  We  turned  grandly  from  the  door  and 
presently  stopped  before  another  magnificent  jewelry 
shop,  two  streets  farther  away. 

There  the  same  thing  happened;  beautiful  things 
were  withdrawn  from  the  window,  the  proprietor 
followed  his  noble  customer  out,  and  almost  the  very 
words  of  his  predecessor  were  repeated. 

"Le  chcr  Prince  isn't  going  to  trust  all  his  eggs  to 
one  basket,"  I  said  to  myself,  recalling  a  proverb  I 
had  heard  the  miserable  Arnaud  quote  in  old  days. 

After  this  second  visit,  we  returned  to  the  milliner's 
where  we  had  left  our  Princess ;  and,  though  we  must 
have  been  gone  some  time,  she  did  not  appear  impa- 
tient. She  was  enraptured  with  what  she  had  seen, 
and  said  that  half  a  dozen  "perfectly  adorable"  hats, 
blouses,  and  frocks  were  to  be  sent  over  for  her  and 
Mrs.  Ruggles  to  select  from,  in  the  afternoon. 

"That's  all  right,"  chuckled  Fanning.     "She'll  take 

224 


Champion 

anything  you  tell  her  is  becoming — she  has  no  taste 
of  her  own,  and  any  amount  of  confidence  in  yours; 
aren't  you  a  Princess?  My  affairs  marched  well,  too 
— exactly  as  we  planned,  or  better.  I  tell  you  we're 
going  to  make  a  big  haul  soon — or  break  in  the  at- 
tempt. But  we  won't  break — not  yet,  anyhow.  We 
have  la  veine  with  us,  and  it's  going  to  last  a  while — 
I  feel  it.  Are  you  happy,  little  woman?" 

"Awfully!"  cried  Marie,  "in  a  wild,  desperate  way, 
as  if  I'd  been  drinking  too  much  champagne." 

"Anyhow,  champagne's  better  than  the  dark  river, 
eh?" 

"Oh,  don't  speak  of  it.  I've  only  to  think  of  that, 
to  be  half-mad  with  enjoyment  of  everything.  This  is 
life— life— life!" 

And  then,  we  were  turning  in  among  the  palms  and 
roses  of  the  hotel  garden.  The  Prince  and  Princess 
went  in,  and  Potin  stood  waiting.  Once,  he  looked 
at  his  watch,  and  I  was  able  to  see  that  it  was  only  a 
few  minutes  past  ten — early  still,  especially  for  Monte 
Carlo.  Half  an  hour  passed,  and  once  more  my  new 
owner  and  his  bride  appeared,  this  time  bringing  with 
them  the  Ruggles. 

I  supposed  that  we  were  now  bound  for  a  return 
visit  to  the  jewelers;  but  not  at  all.  We  were  going 
for  a  simple,  innocent  drive,  and  no  doubt  the  Austra- 
lians were  more  tha,n  pleased  to  show  themselves  to  the 

225 


Champion 

gay  world  in  such  distinguished  society.  In  a  few 
minutes  we  had  flashed  to  Cap  Martin,  and  on  to  the 
pretty  little  town  of  Mentone  set  in  its  half-ring  of 
mountains;  then  back  again  along  the  curving  white 
road  to  Monte  Carlo. 

"Now  you've  had  an  airing,  would  you  like  to  shop 
for  an  hour,  before  finishing  up  the  morning  with  a 
stroll  through  the  Casino?"  asked  the  Prince  of  his 
guests. 

Of  course  they  were  delighted,  as  they  would  have 
been  with  any  proposal  of  his  highness! 

"What  about  the  diamonds  I  heard  my  wife  say  you 
were  wanting  to  choose?"  he  suggested  to  Mrs.  .Rug- 
gles.  "Perhaps  I  flatter  myself  too  much,  but  I  do 
think  I  am  something  of  a  connoisseur  in  the  matter 
of  pearls  and  diamonds,  perhaps  of  emeralds  and 
rubies  as  well;  I  don't  say  of  anything  else,  though 
my  eye  for  sapphires  isn't  bad.  Still,  there  are  my 
specialties;  and,  at  least,  I've  had  some  experience. 
My  mother  was  one  of  the  greatest  buyers  of  her  day, 
and  I  chose  everything  for  her.  If  you  would  care 
for  my  help  in  selecting — but,  perhaps,  Mr.  Ruggles 
knows  as  much  as  I  do — or  more?" 

The  infatuated  husband  and  wife  protested  loudly. 
Both  were  as  ignorant  of  such  matters  as  babies;  but, 
said  Mr.  Ruggles,  they  wanted  the  best,  and  plenty  of 

it,  for  they  could  afford  to  have  it.     And  what  they 

226 


Champion 

wanted  most  was  for  their  dear,  kind  Prince  and 
Princess  to  choose  for  them. 

"My  wife  is  a  child.  She  knows  nothing  of  jewels, 
but  she  has  taste  in  their  arrangement,"  said  the  Prince 
loftily.  "For  herself,  she  does  not  need  to  buy — unless 
she  fancies  some  novelty.  She  has  my  family  heir- 
looms, or  will  have  them.  I  do  not  let  her  travel  about 
with  the  Vasilievna  jewels.  Here,  Mr.  Ruggles,  is 
one  of  the  two  best  shops  in  Monte  Carlo;  afterward 
I  will  take  you  to  the  other." 

The  pair  of  birds  hopped  into  the  big  glass  cage 
as  tamely  as  if  they  had  salt  on  their  tails.  This  time, 
my  position  in  front  of  the  shop  was  rather  more  ad- 
vantageous, and  I  could  see  what  was  going  on  inside. 
I  saw  the  Princess  and  Mrs.  Ruggles  bending  in  ad- 
miration over  the  counter,  while  the  Prince  pointed  out 
this  or  that,  or  pushed  some  jewel  aside.  A  long 
string  of  diamonds  was  looped  across  the  Australian 
lady's  ample  bosom,  a  flexible  tiara  was  held  against 
her  hair.  She  pulled  off  her  gloves  and  squeezed 
over  her  fat  ringers,  already  loaded  with  ugly  but  ex- 
pensive stones,  new  and  beautiful  rings  praised  by  the 
Prince.  At  last  Mr.  Ruggles  was  called  into  consulta- 
tion; out  from  his  pocket  came  a  stout  wallet  of 
leather,  and  out  of  the  wallet  came  a  thick  sheaf  of 
notes. 

The  party  were  in  the  shop  almost  long  enough  to 

227 


Champion 

buy  half  its  contents,  it  seemed;  but  at  last  they  fin- 
ished and  came  to  me,  followed  by  a  young  employee 
carrying  a  large  box  wrapped  in  white  paper.  In  this, 
no  doubt,  were  the  jewel-cases,  which  Mrs.  Ruggles 
was  childishly  anxious  to  bring  away  with  her  im- 
mediately. 

"Now,  when  we  come  to  the  place  where  I'm  going 
to  take  you  next,"  explained  the  Prince,  "you  will  un- 
derstand why  I  said  nothing  about  pearls  in  this  shop. 
Of  course,  no  woman's  jewel-box  is  complete  now- 
adays without  a  really  perfect  string  of  pearls,  even 
if  she  does  not  care  for  a  rope  to  wear  when  en  grande 
toilette.  The  string  you  have  at  present  is  striking, 
but — if  you  allow  me  to  say  so — I  think  you  owe  it  to 
yourself  to  have  another  more  evenly  matched  in  shape 
and  color." 

Again  the  birds  were  caged,  and — judging  from 
what  I  heard  when  they  returned  to  me — must  have 
picked  up  pearls  like  so  many  canary-seeds. 

By  this  time,  the  Princess  decided,  it  was  too  late 
for  the  Casino  before  luncheon.  She  was,  she  said,  a 
little  tired,  but  when  the  Australian  millionaire  in- 
vited the  Prince  to  name  the  most  fashionable  restau- 
rant in  Monte  Carlo,  and  to  lunch  there  at  his  expense, 
she  brightened. 

"I  would  suggest  Giro's,  and  a  table  on  the  terrace," 
replied  the  Prince  airily.  No  doubt  his  plan  was  car- 

228 


Champion 

ried  out;  but  as  the  party  had  first  to  go  back  to  the 
hotel  to  dispose  of  the  valuable  new  purchases,  and 
I  was  sent  to  the  garage,  I  had  no  further  personal 
knowledge  of  their  movements  for  several  hours. 

In  the  cool  of  the  afternoon,  however,  I  was  taken 
out  again  for  a  run  up  to  La  Turbie.  This  time  there 
was  a  third  guest,  an  anemic  but  rich-looking  young 
man,  who  had  evidently  been  selected  as  another  likely 
victim.  I  won  much  praise  by  the  manner  in  which 
I  took  the  hills  which  had  to  be  climbed,  and  turned 
the  sharp  corners.  My  passengers  had  tea,  and  I  had 
petrol  at  La  Turbie ;  and  during  the  run  down  most  of 
the  talk  was  of  the  oil-wells  on  Prince  Vasilievna's 
estates  in  Russia! 

"My  gentleman  isn't  wasting  any  of  his  opportuni- 
ties," I  said  to  myself,  and,  really,  his  maneuvers  were 
clever.  He  did  not  seem  at  all  eager  to  let  these  new 
friends  of  his  into  the  good  thing  which  he  had  in  his 
hand.  They  were  so  anxious  for  a  chance,  however, 
that  finding  hints  useless,  the  new  man — whose  name 
was  Boyle-Smythe — and  Ruggles  begged  that  the 
Prince  would,  if  he  were  disposing  of  any  among  his 
own  shares,  give  them  the  first  opportunity  to  become 
buyers.  At  last  he  said  that  he  would  do  so,  and  the 
Princess  laughingly  exclaimed  that  it  was  like  the  good 
nature  for  which  she  had  married  him. 

Next  day,  when  Potin  was  getting  me  ready  to  go 
229 


Champion 

out,  about  ten  o'clock  in  the  morning,  the  Prince 
walked  into  the  garage.  I  noticed,  the  instant  I  caught 
sight  of  him,  that  he  was  pale,  with  a  feverish  bright- 
ness of  the  eyes. 

"You  needn't  come  with  me  this  morning,  Potin," 
said  he;  and,  though  he  spoke  in  a  low  tone  which 
tried  to  be  calm,  his  voice  was  not  as  steady  as  usual. 
"I  want  the  car  only  for  a  short  run,"  he  went  on, 
"and,  as  I  may  pick  up  a  party  of  friends  whom  I've 
half-promised  to  take  out,  it  will  be  a  convenience  to 
have  one  more  place." 

"Tres  bien,  Monsieur,"  replied  the  chauffeur,  happy 
in  the  thought  of  a  holiday,  and  entirely  unsuspicious. 
But  in  my  cylinders  hummed  the  question:  "Is  the 
game  up  already?" 

I  expected  to  be  taken  to  the  hotel  for  Marie,  when 
she  did  not  arrive  at  the  garage  before  the  start;  but 
Fanning  drove  me  past  the  entrance  to  the  garden, 
straight  ahead  up  the  hill,  turning  to  the  right  into 
the  Boulevard  des  Moulins.  Then,  when  we  had 
gone  on  for  a  short  distance,  I  was  put  round  another 
turn  and  bidden  to  mount  a  steep  gradient.  We  had 
passed  out  of  the  gay  and  beautiful  part  of  Monte 
Carlo,  the  part  best  known  to  pleasure-seekers,  and  I 
began  to  wonder  if  it  were  possible  that  the  man  meant 
to  give  his  young  wife  the  slip.  Somehow,  I  could  not 

believe  that  of  him,  bad  as  he  was ;  but  the  expedition 

230 


Champion 

was  certainly  mysterious,  and  I  could  have  told  by  the 
touch  of  his  hand  on  my  steering-wheel,  even  if  I 
hadn't  known  before,  that  he  was  deeply  agitated. 

Suddenly  Fanning  slowed  me  down;  and,  stopping 
at  a  turn  of  the  road,  he  said  to  a  cloaked  and  veiled 
woman,  who  stood  as  if  waiting:  "Well — well?" 

"It's  all  right,"  answered  the  voice  of  Marie,  though 
the  figure  did  not  look  like  Marie's;  and  I  puffed  out 
a  petrolic  sigh  of  relief;  for  I  had  a  sneaking  weak- 
ness for  the  little  woman,  and  I  would  have  burst  my 
tires  sooner  than  desert  her. 

"Get  in,"  said  Fanning,  "and  tell  me  all  about  it. 
I'll  drive  round  a  bit,  out  of  the  way  of  people.  First 
' — how  much  did  they  give  you  on  the  jewels?" 

"Exactly  a  thousand  pounds,"  answered  the  girl, 
on  the  seat  beside  him  now.  "They  wanted  me  to  take 
eight  hundred,  but  I  wouldn't.  Then  I  kept  screwing 
them  up,  till  finally  I  got  the  thousand;  and  I'd  been 
so  long  bargaining  that  I  didn't  dare  try  for  anything 
better,  though  I  know  you  expected  at  least  a  hundred 
pounds  more." 

"You've  done  very  well,  my  little  pigeon,"  said  Fan- 
ning. 

"I  didn't  know  that  going  to  a  pawn-shop  could  be 
so  horrid,"  groaned  Marie.  "They  weren't  rude  ex- 
actly, but — they  looked  at  me  in  such  a  hateful  way, 
and  they  were  so  nonchalant.  I  was  glad  I  had  a  veil. 

231 


Champion 

But  in  spite  of  it,  and  this  cloak  that  nobody  here  has 
seen,  I  was  in  the  most  dreadful  fright.  I  thought, 
what  if  the  jewelers  suspected  us,  and  had  detect- 
ives in  their  pay  who  had  followed  me  over  the  fron- 
tier to  the  pawn-shop  ?  I  expected  every  minute  to  be 
arrested." 

"Poor,  little  silly  child,  it's  a  shame  you  had  to  suf- 
fer all  that  torture,"  said  Fanning  kindly.  "But  I 
couldn't  see  you  through  it.  You  had  to  do  the  thing 
by  yourself,  just  as  I've  got  to  do  what  comes  next  by 
myself.  You're  supposed  to  be  shut  up  in  your  room 
with  a  cold,  amusing  yourself  by  examining  the  jewels 
which  our  grateful  and  trusting  friends  have  sent  for 
the  Princess  Vasilievna  to  select  from.  It's  all  right 
if  I'm  seen — I've  nothing  to  do  with  it.  I  told  both 
the  jeweler  chaps  that  I  didn't  want  to  influence  your 
choice — I  should  keep  out  of  the  way  till  you  had 
decided." 

"If  they  should  see  us  now !"  she  breathed. 

"They  won't.  But  if  they  did,  they'd  think  only 
that  the  Prince  was  taking  a  strange  lady  out  for  a 
drive,  while  the  poor  little  Princess  kept  her  bed  with 
a  cold.  You  look  twice  the  Princess'  size !" 

"I'm  so  thankful.  I  slipped  out  of  the  hotel  very 
cleverly.  Therese  thinks  I  have  some  secret  from 
you;  I  wanted  her  to  think  it — that  sort  of  thing  ap- 
peals to  a  Frenchwoman ;  and  I  gave  her  a  blouse  as  a 

232 


Champion 

bribe  to  help  me.  Oh,  if  those  jeweler  men  knew 
that  instead  of  selecting  which  of  their  things  I  should 
buy,  I'd  pawned  every  one  of  them!" 

"It's  only  for  a  few  hours.  We  have  all  time  to 
play  with.  Both  men  understand  that  they're  not  to 
send  for  the  jewels  till  one  o'clock.  Meanwhile ' 

"Meanwhile!  Ah,  that's  the  awful  part!  //  you 
fail?" 

"I  sha'n't  fail.  I  feel  that  luck  is  going  to  stand 
by  my  side  at  the  Casino  to-day,  and  tell  me  what  to 
back.  Give  me  the  money,  dear,  and  then  trot  home  to 
the  hotel." 


233 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

I  Am  Initiated  into  Certain  Mysteries. 

Marie  was  on  the  point  of  crying.  "Go  home!"  she 
echoed.  "I  couldn't  bear  the  suspense.  I  should  die, 
left  alone  between  four  walls,  while  you  were  making 
our  fortune — or  wrecking  it.  Can't  I  go  with  you  to 
the  Casino?" 

"Not  possible.  'They  wouldn't  let  you  into  the 
rooms  veiled  like  that;  and  you  know  very  well  that 
the  Princess  Vasilievna  is  at  home,  choosing  some 
jewels." 

"Therese  wouldn't  give  me  away  if  any  one  in- 
quired. She'd  say  I  was  sleeping  off  a  headache  and 
couldn't  be  disturbed." 

"You  musn't  be  seen,  anyhow.  I'm  going  to  take 
the  car  round  to  the  garage,  and  then " 

"If  I  can't  be  with  you,  for  goodness'  sake  let  Potin 
drive  me  about  and  keep  me  going,  every  instant,  in 
the  open  air,  till  you're  ready  to  come  out.  Then  we'll 
call  for  you." 

"Very  well.  In  half  an  hour  our  fates  will  be  de- 
cided. I'm  going  to  gamble  for  our  whole  future,  my 
girl.  Thirty  minutes  will  be  enough  to  make  us — or 
lose  us." 

234 


Champion 

"In  half  an  hour  after  you  enter  the  Casino  doors, 
then,  Potin  and  I  will  be  back  with  the  car."  Marie's 
voice  was  hoarse.  She  had  to  moisten  her  lips  to 
speak  clearly. 

Fanning  must  have  known  that,  as  he  had  given 
Potin  leave,  the  chauffeur  was  more  than  likely  to  be 
away.  Probably  he  wished  to  save  himself  the  pain 
of  refusing  Marie;  but,  as  luck  would  have  it,  we 
found  Potin  still  at  the  garage,  talking  eagerly  to  an 
English  chauffeur,  with  whom  he  had  struck  up  a 
friendship  since  yesterday  evening.  The  Englishman 
could  speak  enough  French  to  exchange  ideas  with 
Potin,  and  Potin  could  help  him  with  some  of  the 
technical  words  connected  with  motoring,  of  which  he 
was  ignorant. 

My  chauffeur  was  not  too  pleased,  evidently,  at  hav- 
ing me  thrown  back  on  his  hands  so  quickly.  Prob- 
ably he  cursed  himself  for  not  leaving  the  garage  as 
soon  as  my  back  was  turned;  but  it  was  now  too  late 
for  regrets,  and  with  a  good  enough  grace  he  obeyed 
his  orders  to  take  Madame  la  Princesse  out  for  a  short 
spin. 

They  dropped  the  Prince  at  the  Casino,  and  poor 
Marie  looked  after  him  wistfully,  as  her  husband 
disappeared  into  the  wide,  open  doorway;  but  he  did 
not  turn.  He  walked  straight  in,  with  head  erect,  and 
his  shoulders  thrown  back. 

235 


Champion 

"Drive  me  to  Monaco,"  said  Marie,  "and  wait  at 
the  Cathedral.  I  wish  to  go  in  for  a  moment." 

Potin  did  as  he  was  told,  and  stopped  under  the 
steps  of  the  Cathedral.  Marie  went  up  slowly,  as  if 
she  could  hardly  control  her  limbs,  and  her  veiled  head 
was  drooping.  She  was  a  selfish  little  adventuress, 
preying  upon  the  world,  and  her  hopes  for  the  future 
were  founded  upon  cheating  others;  yet  I  should  not 
be  surprised  if  she  spent  her  time  in  the  Cathedral 
praying  for  Fanning's  success  at  the  Casino,  praying 
hard,  without  realizing  that  she  and  her  prayers  were 
alike  incongruous. 

She  was  not  gone  more  than  ten  minutes,  and  the 
half-hour  was  not  nearly  up  yet;  but  she  was  too  rest- 
less to  keep  away  from  the  Casino  longer.  She  told 
Potin  to  take  her  down  quickly  to  the  Place,  lest  the 
Prince  should  come  out  and  be  waiting. 

I  bowled  them  along  gaily,  for  I  had  my  own  curi- 
osity; but  when  we  arrived  before  the  Casino  door 
Fanning  was  not  to  be  seen;  and  presently  we  were 
obliged  to  move  on  and  make  room  for  a  dusty  old 
automobile  that  would  not  have  dared  to  address  me 
of  its  own  accord. 

Potin  drew  me  up  in  front  of  the  Hotel  de  Paris; 
and  if  the  minutes  which  passed  before  Fanning  came 
out  of  the  Casino  seemed  long  to  me,  they  must  have 
seemed  doubly  so  to  Marie.  She  moved  about  in  her 

236 


Champion 

seat  and  sighed,  starting  every  time  a  man  in  a  gray 
suit  could  be  seen  in  the  doorway  across  the  Place. 
Then,  at  last,  he  appeared  running  down  the  steps, 
walking  fast  toward  me,  his  face  as  white  as  if  it 
had  been  chalked,  and  his  eyes  as  bright  as  if  he  were 
burning  up  with  fever.  Whatever  had  happened,  how- 
ever the  luck  had  gone,  it  was  plain  that  he  was  keyed 
to  the  highest  pitch  of  excitement.  I  could  not  guess 
from  his  face  whether  he  had  won,  or  whether  he  was 
hurrying  to  say  that  not  an  instant  must  be  lost  in  get- 
ting outside  the  Principality. 

Marie  could  not  speak,  but  sat  still,  her  face  turned 
toward  him. 

"Keep  your  seat,  Potin,"  said  the  Prince,  moisten- 
ing his  lips.  "I  want  you  to  drive."  He  opened  the 
door  of  the  tonneau,  and  Marie,  whisking  out  of  her 
place  on  to  the  front  seat,  flashed  in  behind,  that  she 
might  be  by  her  husband's  side  and  learn  her  fate 
without  delay. 

"Where  would  Monsieur  have  me  drive?"  inquired 
Potin. 

"Anywhere,"  answered  the  Prince,  with  the  air 
of  not  knowing  what  he  said.  "I  want  a  little  air — 
that's  all.  Go  anywhere." 

So  Potin  turned  me  toward  the  Condamine,  and  up 
to  Monaco  again,  where  the  road  was  less  choked  with 
traffic  than  the  streets  of  Monte  Carlo. 

237 


Champion 

"Tell  me — everything,"  faltered  Marie. 

"Just  one  minute  to  breathe,  and  I  will,"  replied 
Fanning,  inhaling  deep  drafts  of  air.  "Heavens! 
What  a  half -hour!  I  came  down  to  the  last  louis." 

"The  last  louis!"  she  gasped.  "The  last  out  of  a 
thousand  pounds!" 

"Yes.  Wait.  Let  me  begin  at  the  beginning.  I 
never  went  through  anything  quite  like  it.  You  know, 
it  wasn't  as  if  I  were  alone,  as  I  used  to  be.  I  had 
you  to  think  of.  I  kept  seeing  your  face,  as  it  would 
look  if " 

"Oh,  don't!    Tell  me — what  happened." 

"I  stopped  at  the  first  table  I  came  to.  Something 
seemed  to  say,  'This  is  the  one !'  I  told  you  I  felt  luck 
would  be  with  me.  I  was  in  a  mood  to  be  supersti- 
tious— to  obey  the  Voice — or  fancy.  I  had  the  greatest 
confidence  in  my  inspiration  to  do  the  right  thing.  I 
played  without  hesitation.  But — all  my  calculations 
were  wrong:  whatever  I  turned  to  do  the  whole  force 
of  the  roulette  seemed  to  pit  itself  against  me.  None 
of  the  numbers  I  covered  came  out.  It  was  enough 
for  me  to  back  a  dozen  or  a  column  for  it  to  fail  to  ap- 
pear, ten  times  in  succession.  On  simple  chances  it 
was  the  same.  If  I  played  for  runs  there  came  inter- 
mittances,  or  vice  versa.  I  grew  hot  and  cold.  I  could 
no  longer  think.  It  looked  as  if  the  end  had  come  for 

you  and  me.    But  I  made  one  more  effort  and  pulled 

238 


Champion 

myself  together.  I  thought  if  I  could  win  once,  we 
might  at  least  get  out  of  Monte  Carlo.  I  hoped  for 
nothing  more  than  that,  then — for  there  was  but  the 
one  louis  left.  A  light  seemed  to  flash  through  my 
brain,  and  black  against  the  illumination  I  saw  the 
word  'Zero.'  I  knew  that  Zero  would  come.  It  was 
as  if  I  controlled  the  ball  as  it  left  the  croupier's  hand. 
I  had  meant  to  separate  the  last  louis  into  four  five- 
franc  stakes,  but  I  flung  the  one  gold  coin  on  Zero. 
Zero  it  was !  I  was  paid  thirty-five  louis.  The  prudent 
thing  would  have  been  to  go  away  with  the  money, 
thankful  for  something  out  of  the  wreck,  or  at  least 
to  play  only  with  small  stakes.  But  now  the  two 
words  'Quatre  premiers'  were  printed  black  against 
the  light  before  my  eyes.  I  risked  the  whole  money, 
therefore,  on  Quatre  premiers.  'Deux;  noir,  impair 
et  manque,'  announced  the  croupier.  When  I  picked 
up  my  stake  and  winnings  I  was  three  hundred  and 
fifteen  louis  to  the  good.  This  took  me  so  long  that 
there  was  only  just  time  to  try  my  luck  again  before 
the  warning  cry  of  'Rien  n'va  plus.'  I  dashed  down 
the  maximum — nine  louis — en  plein  on  thirty-six, 
twenty-five  louis  on  the  trois  derniers,  one  hundred 
louis  on  the  last  dozen,  and  all  I  had  left  on  red.  I 
was  but  just  in  time.  The  ball  fell  into  thirty-six, 
and,  as  every  one  had  been  watching  this  last  play  of 
mine,  there  was  a  murmur  from  th"  whole  table. 

239 


Champion 

'Meme  jeu,'  I  said.  I  think  something  must  have 
burst  in  my  brain  if  I  had  lost,  and  you  would  have 
been  a  widow  all  in  a  moment;  but  thirty-six  came 
up  again.  This  time  every  one  exclaimed,  and  people 
ran  from  other  tables  to  see  what  made  the  excitement. 

"I  was  over  two  thousand  five  hundred  louis  to  the 
good,  and  all  from  that  one,  last  louis.  Still,  the  for- 
tune I'd  come  to  try  for  wasn't  yet  made,  and  I  was 
not  satisfied.  'Follow  your  luck  once  more,'  the  Voice 
said.  'Meme  jeu,'  I  heard  myself  repeating.  It  was 
as  if  the  Voice  spoke,  not  I.  The  croupier  helped  me 
stake.  Thirty- four  came  up:  almost  as  good  for  me 
as  if  it  had  been  thirty-six  for  the  third  time.  Sud- 
denly I  felt  a  kind  of  inward  collapse.  There  was  no 
more  inspiration.  My  hands  trembled  so  that  I  could 
hardly  pick  up  my  winnings.  I  was  afraid  my  knees 
would  give  under  me  as  I  came  away.  My  Princess, 
we're  over  two  thousand  seven  hundred  English  sover- 
eigns richer  than  we  were  when  I  went  into  the  rooms  ; 
and  when  the  jewels  are  redeemed  we'll  still  have 
nearly  two  thousand  pounds  of  our  own.  What  do  you 
think  of  that  ?" 

"Think  of  it !"  Marie  gasped.  "It's  wonderful — but 
terrible.  Only  to  listen  has  turned  me  to  ice,  and  then 
set  me  on  fire.  We're  saved,  and  we're  rich — rich!" 

"Not  rich;  but  we've  enough  to  go  on  with  till  I 

bring  off  another  coup.    Don't  be  frightened.    I  sha'n't 

240 


I   COULD  HARDLY  PICK   UP    MY   WINNINGS.'" 


(f.  240.) 


Champion 


risk  our  all  again.  The  Australians  and  Boyle-Smith 
and  two  or  three  others  will  be  handing  me  their 
checks  for  the  oil  shares  soon.  But  now  what  we've 
got  to  think  of  is  to  bring  back  the  jewels.  I'll  stop 
Potin  at  the  top  of  the  same  street  as  before,  and  you 
must  pluck  up  courage  to  walk  into  the  lion's  den 
again  to  redeem  the  things.  They  won't  be  surprised 
to  see  you  back  so  soon.  And  you  needn't  be  surprised 
if  they  smile  and  congratulate  you  on  your  good  luck. 
They'll  know  you've  been  at  the  tables." 

He  gave  her  money,  which  they  counted  over  to- 
gether. The  chauffeur  was  told  where  to  go,  and 
where  to  stop,  as  Madame  wished  to  descend.  We  did 
not  wait,  as  she  wished  to  slip  into  the  hotel  unnoticed, 
in  the  same  way  as  she  had  slipped  out ;  but  I  doubted 
not  that  everything  had  gone  well,  for  in  the  afternoon 
I  was  called  upon  to  take  a  large  party  to  Beaulieu 
for  tea,  and  both  Prince  and  Princess  were  in  the  best 
of  spirits.  I  observed  also  that  Mrs.  Ruggles  was 
wearing  a  new  string  of  pearls  round  her  neck,  while 
a  huge  diamond  was  screwed  on  to  each  one  of  her 
rather  prominent  ears,  and  she  carried  a  gold  bag  with 
a  fringe  of  sapphires.  From  this  I  judged  that  some, 
at  least,  of  the  famous  jewels  had  been  purchased, 
and  that  the  Prince's  credit  was  of  the  best  with  the 
trusting  shopkeepers. 

For  the  next  few  days  I  was  kept  busy  in  carrying 

241 


Champion 


the  Prince  and  Princess  with  their  friends — there  were 
relays  of  new  faces  each  day — all  over  the  beautiful 
country  which  lies  round  Monte  Carlo.  Often  I  ran 
with  a  full  load,  yet  with  no  effort,  up  to  La  Turbie, 
where  my  hospitable  owner  would  entertain  his  guests 
at  luncheon  in  the  Oriental  restaurant  overlooking  the 
splendid  view  of  the  Mediterranean  coast.  Then  we 
would  sometimes  dash  on  to  the  queer  little  village 
of  Laghet,  and  down  to  Nice;  or  we  would  twist  up 
the  wild  road  to  Sospel;  or  fly  over  the  Italian  fron- 
tiers as  far  as  San  Remo.  All  this  I  enjoyed — or 
would  have  enjoyed  if  I  had  not  been  ceaselessly  think- 
ing of  my  real  Master — for  the  roads  were  good  and 
the  scenery  splendid.  I  could  not  help  being  inter- 
ested, too,  in  as  much  as  I  could  understand  of  the 
drama  in  which  Paul  Fanning  and  Mary  Precious 
were  the  leading  characters. 

When  they  and  their  guests  were  not  talking  of  oil- 
wells  they  were  gabbling  about  the  gambling  at  Monte 
Carlo,  and  after  some  days  of  this  the  technical  terms 
in  the  games  of  roulette  and  trente  et  quarante  became 
almost  as  familiar  to  me  as  the  names  of  my  own 
parts.  They  were  continually  telling  anecdotes  of 
"runs"  they  had  "been  on"  or  "just  missed,"  of  grand 
coups  they  had  seen  or  made,  and  one  morning  Paul 
was  in  a  particularly  good  humor,  for  all  the  others 

Vvrere  congratulating  him  on  a  brilliant  performance 

242 


Champion 

the  evening  before.  It  appeared  that  he  had  begun  by 
staking  the  "maximum"  on  red  at  trente  et  quarante, 
and  had  won  no  less  than  nine  times  in  succession, 
when  he  had  coolly  picked  up  all  the  mass  of  notes  and 
played  no  more,  thus  keeping  the  whole  of  his  great 
winnings. 

He  passed  his  stroke  of  fortune  off  with  a  smile. 
"That  sort  of  thing  is  so  easy,  with  plenty  of  money 
and  a  little  pluck  to  let  your  stake  lie.  Thank  Heaven, 
I've  never  been  a  poor  man,  and  now  this  oil  has  been 
discovered  on  my  estates,  it  would  amuse  me  to  have 
a  really  serious  battle  with  the  Casino — something 
worth  bringing  off.  Try  a  system  I've  been  thinking 
out,  employ  several  professional  players,  providing 
them  with  a  practically  unbreakable  capital,  and  give 
them  a  chance  to  break  the  bank.  With  my  little  sys- 
tem I  believe  it  could  be  done  day  after  day." 

These  were  words  of  wisdom,  because  they  were  the 
words  of  a  Prince  who  was  also  a  millionaire;  so  his 
sycophantic  friends  hung  upon  them,  and  begged  that 
a  syndicate  might  be  made  up  for  the  grand  experi- 
ment, as  they  all  wanted  to  come  in.  The  Prince  de- 
murred, then  consented,  laughingly,  and  I  was  certain 
that  the  scheme  would  be  arranged. 

We  had  been  at  Monte  Carlo  for  a  fortnight  when 
one  day  Paul  told  his  chauffeur  that,  as  he  was  giving 
a  big  luncheon-party  at  his  hotel,  and  a  dinner  in  the 

243 


Champion 


evening,  I  should  not  be  needed  at  all,  and  Potin  could 
have  a  holiday.  This  was  what  he  and  Therese  had 
waited  and  hoped  for.  Their  friends'  master  and  mis- 
tress were  now  among  the  friends  of  the  Prince  and 
Princess  Vasilievna,  so  they  were  among  the  guests 
invited  to  one  or  both  of  the  two  entertainments,  and 
the  servants  could  get  off  for  a  run  in  the  middle  of 
the  day. 

The  luncheon  was  at  one  o'clock;  and  as  soon  as  it 
was  sure  that  the  party  was  safely  assembled,  the  start 
was  made.  We  had  not  only  the  valet  and  maid  to 
whom  Therese  and  Potin  had  taken  a  fancy,  but  the 
English  chauffeur  whom  they  had  lately  picked  up 
as  an  acquaintance.  His  master  was  ill,  and  he  was 
free  for  the  day,  a  fact  which  was  to  mean  much  for 
me  and  my  whole  future  in  more  ways  than  one. 

He  was  a  swaggering  fellow  who  impressed  me  as 
knowing  very  little  about  his  work,  though  he  put  on 
the  airs  of  an  expert,  and  boasted  that  he  had  never 
seen  a  car  which  he  could  not  drive  at  sight.  I  had  a 
dislike  to  him,  and  hoped  he  would  not  want  to  try 
his  hand  on  me;  but  after  my  passengers  had  stopped 
for  lunch,  a  dance  and  a  game  of  bowls  at  a  common 
country  restaurant  over  the  Italian  border,  he  ex- 
pressed a  wish  to  sit  on  the  front  seat  beside  Potin  on 
the  way  home. 

This  annoyed  me,  for  I  thought  it  was  the  first  step 
244 


Champion 

toward  a  suggestion  that  he  should  drive;  but  for  the 
time  he  seemed  to  have  no  such  thought  in  his  mind. 
He  contented  himself  with  talking  of  his  powers,  and 
I  pricked  up  my  valves  when  he  announced  that  a 
couple  of  years  ago  he  had  been  chauffeur  to  "the  great 
Barr-Simons." 

Whether  this  statement  were  true,  or  made  only  to 
impress  Potin,  he  appeared  to  know  a  good  deal  about 
the  man  of  whom  he  spoke.  Soon  the  talk  turned  to 
the  Vandervoorst  Surprise  Cup  race,  and  the  English- 
man asked  Potin  if  he  had  been  there.  Reluctantly 
Potin  confessed  that  he  had  not,  but  expressed  interest, 
and  the  other  chauffeur  proceeded  to  describe  it  in  ex- 
ecrable Fretich.  Now,  little  as  I  liked  the  fellow,  I 
was  thankful  to  have  him  as  a  passenger,  and  iri  my 
eagerness  for  news  of  my  Master,  I  ran  slackly,  losing 
power. 

"What  became  of  the  young  Englishman?"  asked 
Potin.  "The  chap  whose  car  would  have  won  if  it 
hadn't  come  to  grief?" 

I  misfired  twice  in  my  anxiety  for  the  answer. 

"Oh,  he  never  had  a  chance  with  Barr-Simons," 
replied  the  other  so  contemptuously  that  I  would 
have  pitched  him  out  i  f  I  had  had  him  Otl  board  alone. 
"That  was  all  a  mistake.  But  the  fellow — his  name 
was  Cameron — is  getting  well,  you  know.  Every  one 
expected  him  to  die,  eveh  his  own  sister,  who  it  seehis 

245 


Champion 

is  the  only  person  in  his  family  who  has  been  looking 
after  him.  He  must  have  been  a  black  sheep,  I  sup- 
pose, for  the  story  is — I  think  Barr-Simons  knew  and 
talked  about  it — the  story  is  that  he  did  something 
which  forced  his  father,  a  parson  and  rather  a  swell, 
to  throw  him  over,  years  ago.  But  the  sister  was 
visiting  some  one  in  France,  for  the  motor-race — per- 
haps it  was  Mrs.  Barr-Simons  herself.  Anyhow,  she 
nursed  her  brother,  and  quite  a  romance  has  grown 
out  of  that  affair.  Vandervoorst,  the  American  mil- 
lionaire, saw  her,  and  fell  in  love,  so  he  either  took  or 
pretended  to  take  an  interest  in  Cameron,  hanging 
about  the  hospital,  making  inquiries,  sending  fruit,  and 
all  that  sort  of  thing.  He's  a  newspaper  man  himself, 
but  the  news  of  what  he  was  doing  got  into  every  other 
paper  except  his  own.  That  one  carefully  lay  low  and 
didn't  say  a  word  till  it  announced  his  engagement  to 
Miss  Cameron,  only  a  day  or  two  ago." 

My  Master  getting  well ;  Sheila  engaged  to  the  rich 
Mr.  Vandervoorst!  Here  was  news  indeed;  but  there 
was  more  to  come. 

"I  met  Cameron's  chauffeur  in  London,  just  after 
the  accident,"  the  Englishman  went  on.  "He  was  a 
Frenchman,  but  had  lived  in  England,  and  talked  Eng- 
lish pretty  well.  He  said  Cameron  had  a  fit  and  lost 
control  of  his  car  in  the  race.  He'd  been  working  too 

hard,    Arnaud  the  chap's  name  was." 

246 


Champion 

"Why  do  you  'was'?"  asked  Potin.  "Or  is  that 
only  because  you  have  not  much  French  grammar 
yet?" 

"I  say  'was/  because  he's  dead  now,"  replied  the 
other  calmly.  "Wasn't  it  in  the  French  papers?  I 
should  have  thought  it  would  be.  I  found  it  in  Van- 
dervoorst's  own  paper,  the  day  I  told  you  of,  when  I 
saw  the  engagement  announced.  Quaint — the  two  bits 
of  news  should  have  been  in  the  same  issue.  Arnaud 
was  very  flush  of  money  when  I  met  him,  and  seemed 
to  be  spending  it  all  on  a  pretty  music-hall  singer, 
a  French  girl  who  had  been  popular  in  London  for  the 
last  year  or  so.  She  let  him  spend ;  and  then,  it  seems, 
ran  away  with  a  Spaniard,  an  ex-bull-fighter,  who's  re- 
tired with  a  fortune — a  handsome,  gipsy-looking  chap. 
I  saw  him  in  a  box  applauding  her  new  song  one 
night;  just  the  sort  of  man  to  attract  a  woman  like 
that.  'La  Belle  'Toinette,'  as  they  call  her,  broke  all 
her  engagements  and  popped  off  with  the  Spaniard  on 
his  yacht,  bound  for  South  America  or  somewhere.  I 
thought  of  Arnaud  when  I  read  she'd  gone;  and  then 
I  saw,  four  or  five  days  later,  that  the  body  of  a  man 
unknown  who  threw  himself  from  Waterloo  Bridge, 
had  been  identified  as  that  of  the  mechanic  and  chauf- 
feur, Jean  Arnaud." 

I  had  not  a  thrill  of  compassion  for  the  dead  man, 

v/hen  I  heard  this;  not  the  rise  of  a  fraction  of  a  de- 

247 


Champion 


gree  in  the  heat  of  my  cylinders.  He  was  a  coward 
and  a  traitor,  and  I  was  not  sorry  that  he  had  died  a 
death  only  fit  for  such  a  man  as  he.  And  so,  an  end 
of  Arnaud!  I  didn't,  believe  there  was  a  soul  in  the 
world  to  regret  him ;  unless  my  Master,  in  the  generos- 
ity of  his  heart,  forgave  and  pitied.  My  metal  wasn't 
tempered  for  such  nobility  as  that,  though  I  believed 
myself  to  be  made  of  true  steel  and  stanch  iron. 

So  lost  was  I  in  thoughts  of  the  past,  that  for  some 
moments  I  became  deaf  to  all  that  followed,  and  was 
only  recalled  to  the  present  when  I  found  Potin  and 
his  friend  changing  places.  The  Englishman  was  go- 
ing to  drive  me! 

I  was  sure  that,  if  Potin  had  not  taken  a  little  too 
much  red  wine  of  the  country,  he  would  not  have  al- 
lowed this,  for  he  was  proud  of  me,  and  in  his  way 
loyal  enough  to  his  master's  interests.  In  a  normal 
mood  he  would  have  put  his  friend  off,  and  refused 
to  run  risks;  but  he  had  danced  and  he  had  drunk;  he 
was  good-natured  and  afraid  of  nothing,  so  he  gave 
the  wheel  to  the  Englishman,  and  the  thing  I  ex- 
pected happened.  The  strange  chauffeur,  for  all  his 
boasting,  had  never  laid  hands  upon  a  car  of  my  sort, 
and  he  was  like  a  keeper  of  tame  leopards  thrown 
among  lions. 

I  gave  a  preliminary  wabble,  as  a  warning,  for  I 

did  not  want  to  hurt  any  of  my  passengers  if  I  could 

248 


Champion 

help  it.  If  he  had  had  any  sense,  he  would  have 
chariged  speeds,  for  I  was  going  at  a  good  pace  when 
he  attempted  to  take  charge  of  me.  But  he  paid  no 
heed,  and  the  best  I  could  do  was  to  dash  myself  with 
as  little  force  as  possible  against  the  wall  of  rock  by 
the  side  of  the  road. 

I  didn't  throw  any  one  out,  except  the  Englishman 
himself,  arid  that  was  only  justice.  Besides,  it  did  him 
good,  and  he  got  up  after  a  sobering  fall,  limping,  and 
bleeding  from  the  forehead,  altogether  a  wiser  if  sad- 
der man.  As  fbr  the  cither  guests,  they  got  no  more 
than  a  shock  from  being  flung  all  in  a  heap  in  the  ton- 
neaii,  and  knocking  their  heads  together.  But  Potin 
had  a  handful  of  broken  glass  in  his  face,  and  was 
ready  to  cry  with  pain  arid  shame  of  what  he  had 
done,  to  say  nothing  of  his  dread  of  the  consequences. 

As  for  me,  not  orily  had  I  smashed  my  new  front 
glass — that  I  didn't  regret,  for  I  hated  it — but  had 
crumpled  up  my  fine  bonnet,  and  bent  my  steering- 
rods,  so  that  it  was  a  long  and  difficult  matter  to  get 
me  back  to  the  garage.  Therese  and  the  three  guests 
all  went  home  by  rail  from  Ventigmilia,  lest  they 
should  be  wanted  by  their  employers  before  they  could 
reach  Monte  Carlo  by  car;  and  Potin,  left  alone  with 
me,  made  me  crawl  like  a  wounded  animal  along  the 
road. 

To  do  him  justice  he  did  not  think  as  much  about 
249 


Champion 

his  own  injuries  as  he  did  about  mine,  over  which  he 
groaned  dismally.  But  then,  of  course,  it  was  not  all 
unselfishness.  He  was  in  a  fever  lest  the  Prince 
should  ask  for  me  in  the  morning,  before  I  could  be 
repaired,  and  he  would  have  to  confess  that  he  had 
taken  me  out  without  leave.  He  dismounted  my  steer- 
ing-gear and  rushed  off  with  it  and  my  damaged  bon- 
net, hoping  no  doubt  that  by  working  all  night,  he 
might  in  spite  of  everything  have  me  in  good  trim 
again  by  morning. 

It  had  been  about  eight  o'clock  and  dusk,  when  we 
returned;  and  after  a  couple  of  restless  hours  I  had 
tried  to  forget  a  few  inward  aches  and  pains  by  drop- 
ping into  a  doze,  when  I  was  awakened  suddenly  by 
the  voice  of  the  Prince.  He  and  the  Princess  were  to- 
gether, and  must  have  come  into  the  garage  almost 
noiselessly,  or  I  should  have  heard  them,  for,  as  I  have 
said,  I  generally  sleep  with  one  or  two  valves  open. 

The  pair  were  talking  together  in  low,  agitated 
tones,  and  the  Princess  was  trying  to  conceal  a  small 
dressing-bag  under  her  long  motoring-cloak. 

"Good  heavens,  the  car's  smashed!"  stammered  the 
Prince.  "What  devilish  luck — on  this  night  of  all 
others!"  and  he  glanced  round,  as  if  he  would  have 
asked  a  question.  But  there  were  no  chauffeurs  about 
—only  the  helpers  in  charge  of  the  garage. 


250 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

/  Lose  My  Temper. 

"What  can  have  happened — and  what  shall  we  do  ?" 
almost  sobbed  Marie. 

"I  could  choke  Potin!  He's  had  the  car  out,  and 
smashed  it.  Now  he's  sneaked  off  with  the  steering- 
gear,  and  the  thing  can't  move." 

"What  will  become  of  us?"  faltered  the  girl. 

"We'll  have  to  go  off  without  the  car,  that's  all," 
said  Paul  moodily. 

"What — leave  it  forever?    Never  see  it  again?" 

"Just  so.    There's  nothing  else  for  it." 

"Couldn't  we — wait  till  to-morrow?"  suggested 
Marie  timidly. 

"What,  and  run  the  risk  of  being  caught?  It  isn't 
like  you  to  want  that.  I  tell  you,  I'm  all  but  certain 
Barr-Simons  recognized  me  as  I  passed  the  table  where 
he  was  playing,  in  the  trente  et  quarante  room.  He 
looked  round  —  our  eyes  met.  His  expression 
changed." 

"But  you  look  so  different.  He  can't  have  been 
sure  it  was  you,  even  if  he  suspected." 

"Barr-Simons'  suspicions  are  more  dangerous  than 
other  men's  certainties.  He  made  no  great  fuss  about 

251 


Champion 

his  garage  being  burnt,  for  he  didn't  want  Cameron's 
car  talked  about;  he  preferred  people  not  to  know  it 
was  there,  lest  the  story  should  get  round  that  he 
started  the  fire  himself,  to  get  rid  of  a  rival's  invention. 
But  he  was  furious  all  the  same — no  doubt  of  that — 
losing  his  car  and  the  other  as  well.  He  must  have 
thought  of  me,  that  night;  and  when  they  had  dug 
about  in  the  debris  days  after,  and  discovered  that 
Cameron's  car  wasn't  destroyed,  but  gone,  I'd  bet  all 
I've  made  and  lost  at  Monte  Carlo  that  he  thought  of 
me  again.  He  may  have  tracked  me  easily,  as  far  as 
Nimes,  who  knows  but  farther?  He's  a  demon — 
Barr-Simons;  the  only  man  I  was  ever  afraid  of.  At 
this  moment  I'll  bet  he's  making  inquiries,  getting  my 
description,  getting  my  name  and  address,  beginning 
to  ferret  out  things.  By  to-morrow  he'll  have  a  tele- 
gram from  St.  Petersburg  to  say  that  the  Prince  Vasi- 
lievna  is  at  home  on  his  estates,  and  the  game  will  be 
up.  I'm  no  coward — no  prophet  of  evil,  Marie,  but 
I  know  that  man;  and  I  felt  recognition  in  his  look." 

"If  we  must  go,  we  must,"  sighed  the  ex-Princess, 
"but  I've  grown  so  fond  of  the  poor  car,  I  hate  leav- 
ing it.  It's  too  sad." 

"I  hate  it  too— I  hate  the  whole  business,"  said  Paul. 
"But  needs  must  when  the  devil  drives — or  Barr- 
Simons.  Don't  cry.  You  shall  have  a  yacht,  next 
thing." 

252 


"But  we've  only  a  thousand  pounds  left,"  she  mur- 
mured; "only  a  thousand  out  of  it  all.  Oh,  if  you 
hadn't  played  to-night!" 

"If  it  hadn't  been  for  Barr-Simons,  I  should  have 
gone  on  to  another  table,  won  back  all  my  losses,  and 
made  a  big  pile  besides,  I  know  it.  But  he  threw  his 
evil  eye  on  me,  and — sauve  qui  pent!  Anyhow,  we 
came  here  with  nothing;  we've  lived  in  luxury  for 
weeks;  we've  paid  Nicolas;  we  go  away  with  a  thou- 
sand pounds  and  a  gold-fitted  bag,  full  of  jewelry." 

"To  think  of  all  my  beautiful  dresses  hanging  in  the 
wardrobe,  and  I  can't  take  them  with  me!"  moaned 
Marie. 

"You've  got  on  a  beauty,  covered  with  a  hundred 
pounds  worth  of  lace,  under  your  cloak.  Be  thankful 
for  that — and  that  I  gave  you  the  chance  to  slip  into 
your  room  to  pick  up  the  jewelry.  It  was  a  great 
risk;  if  you'd  met  your  maid " 

"I  knew  she  was  in  bed.  She  seemed  ill  before  din- 
ner, and  complained  of  a  headache." 

(I  was  not  surprised  to  hear  this.  If  her  head  had 
not  been  hard,  the  ache  might  have  been  worse.) 

"All's  well  that  ends  well ;  and  we  needn't  complain. 
We're  in  luck  that  the  last  train  for  the  night  hasn't 
gone." 

"Where  are  we  to  go  in  it?"  Marie  inquired  dole- 
fully. 

253 


Champion 

"We  must  go  to  Ventimiglia ;  there's  none  the  other 
way  now.  I  don't  know  the  connections  farther  on — 
I've  no  Italian  time-table.  But  somehow,  we  shall  get 
somewhere,  never  fear ;  and  it  doesn't  matter  since  we 
shall  escape  Barr-Simons.  The  Prince  and  Princess 
Vasilievna  cease  to  exist,  as  far  as  we  are  concerned, 
from  this  moment." 

"If  we  could  have  waited  till  to-morrow,  you'd  have 
had  all  the  System  Syndicate  money  in — ten  thousand 
pounds." 

"Never  mind,  there  are  as  good  fish  in  the  sea,  some- 
where else,  as  those  we  have  to  drop  off  our  hooks 
here.  And  now  to  find  them.  We'll  take  a  cab  to 
Mentone.  I  don't  want  to  get  into  a  train  at  Monte 
Carlo  station,  in  case  B.-S.  is  already  on  the  watch." 

"Good-by,  dear  car,"  said  Marie  mournfully. 
"Good-by  forever!" 

So  the  pair  went  out  of  my  sight,  and  out  of  my 
life.  I  could  not  help  regretting  them,  and  wishing 
them  luck  in  spite  of  their  sins  against  society!  If  it 
had  not  been  for  them,  Barr-Simons  would  have  had 
me,  and  to  aid  them  in  escaping  from  him  I  would 
have  done  my  best,  if  I  had  not  been  hors  de  combat. 

I  did  not  see  any  one  I  knew  that  night,  and  Potin 
did  not  come  early  as  usual,  and  as  I  had  expected  him, 
next  morning.  It  must  have  been  about  eleven  o'clock 
when  he  and  Therese  walked  into  the  garage  together, 

254 


Champion 

with  a  strange  and  crestfallen  air.  One  would  have 
thought  they  had  been  discharged;  but,  as  there  was 
no  one  to  discharge  them,  there  must  be  another  cause 
for  their  discomfiture. 

They  did  not  speak,  but  gazed  at  me  sadly.  Potin 
sighed  and  shook  his  head.  Therese  sighed  and  shook 
her  head.  Then  they  looked  at  each  other,  and  perhaps 
they  would  have  said  something,  had  not  the  English 
chauffeur  at  that  moment  limped  into  the  garage,  his 
forehead  plastered. 

"Hello !"  said  he.  "Is  it  true  your  Prince  and  Prin- 
cess have  disappeared?" 

"How  news  flies.  You  have  heard  already?"  ex- 
claimed Therese. 

"It's  true,  then?" 

"Yes,  they've  vanished.  When  I  went  to  Madame's 
room  it  was  empty,  and  the  bed  had  not  been  slept  in. 
I  cried  out,  and  the  femme  de  chambre  came  running. 
We  knocked  at  the  door  of  Monsieur  le  Prince ;  no  an- 
swer. It  was  unlocked.  We  ventured  in.  No  one 
was  there;  the  bed  was  smooth.  All  their  clothing  was 
hanging  up  in  the  wardrobes,  nothing  disturbed — at 
least,  we  saw  nothing.  Then  I  ran  to  tell  Monsieur 
Potin  who  had  just  come  in  to  his  breakfast,  after  all 
night  at  work.  The  manager  was  informed  by  the 
hotel  servants.  We  feared  that  Monsieur  and 
Madame  had  both  been  murdered." 

255 


Champion 


"Sure  they  had  no  reason  for  disappearing?  That 
sort  of  thing  frequently  happens  at  Monte  Carlo." 

"No  such  thought  was  in  any  one's  mind  at  first, 
I  can  tell  you,"  said  Therese.  "But  when  we  discov- 
ered that  Madame's  jewels  were  all  gone,  and  a  little 
dressing-bag — gold-fitted — also  her  motoring-coat  and 
hat,  which  she  would  certainly  not  have  put  on  to  go  to 
the  Casino,  after  the  dinner-party — why,  that  began 
to  throw  a  different  light  on  the  affair." 

"An  ugly,  red  light,"  sighed  Potin.  "The  manager 
of  the  hotel  has  asked  me  a  great  many  questions. 
Some  we  could  not  answer,  because  neither  Therese 
nor  I  knew  anything  of  the  Prince  and  Princess  until 
about  three  weeks  ago.  We  could  only  say  that  we 
had  not  had  our  wages  yet,  for  they  were  not  due; 
the  first  month  was  not  up." 

"I  hope  you've  picked  up  some  perquisites,"  said  the 
Englishman. 

"As  to  that,  we  have  perhaps  not  done  badly  in  small 
ways,"  Therese  acknowledged.  "But  what  can  have 
become  of  Monsieur  le  Prince  and  Madame  la  Prin- 
cesse?" 

"Perhaps  they're  really  Monsieur  and  Madame 
Something  Else,"  said  the  English  chauffeur. 

"What  a  terrible  thought!"  gasped  Therese.  "But 
the  manager  has  sent  out  to  the  shops  to  learn  if  any- 
thing was  wrong.  They  have  bought  a  great  deal, 

256 


Champion 

especially  Madame.     Hats,  dresses,  jewels,  all  of  the 

best." 

"What's  the  news?"  asked  the  Englishman  curi- 
ously. 

"None  has  come  back  yet.  The  person  is  still  ma- 
king his  rounds.  But  I  am  alarmed.  Madame  and 
Monsieur  were  seen  in  the  hotel  just  about  the  time 
that  the  Casino  closed  at  night,  or  a  little  before.  They 
went  up-stairs  and  came  down  again  in  their  motoring- 
coats.  It  looks  very  serious.  And  at  all  events  they 
are  gone.  We  shall  have  to  sing  for  our  money,  Potin 
and  I.  Unless  there  is  good  news,  they  will  not  keep 
us  on  at  the  hotel,  and  feed  us.  We  must  look  out 
for  ourselves,  and  try  to  find  other  situations,  rather 
than  pay  our  fare  home;  but  it  is  difficult,  late  in  the 
season." 

"I  suppose  so,"  said  the  Englishman,  indifferent  to 
their  anxieties,  since  he  was  comfortably  placed  him- 
self. 

"The  Australians,  Monsieur  and  Madame  Ruggles, 
will  perhaps  employ  us,"  suggested  Potin.  "Madame 
is  not  yet  suited  with  a  maid;  and  Monsieur  might  be 
persuaded  to  buy  a  car  and  keep  me  on  as  chauffeur. 
I  have  heard  him  talk  of  having  a  motor  of  his  own." 

"What  will  become  of  this  one?"  inquired  the  other 
man,  jerking  his  head  toward  me. 

Potin  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  sighed.  "I  don't 

257 


Champion 

know.  But  the  manager  says,  if  anything  is  wrong, 
he  will  keep  it,  against  his  bill,  which  is  now  immense, 
as  it  had  not  been  paid  since  the  end  of  the  first  week." 

This  item  of  news  was  particularly  interesting  to  me ; 
and  my  whole  electric  system  began  to  thrill  with  hor- 
ror at  a  new  thought.  What  if  Paul  Fanning  had  been 
right,  and  Barr-Simons  had  recognized  him  at  the 
Casino?  Would  he  not  suspect  that  a  car  in  Fan- 
ning's  possession  might  be  Hugh  Cameron's  car,  as 
thoroughly  transformed  in  appearance  as  the  thief 
who  had  stolen  it?  Would  he  not  come  and  examine 
me,  buy  me  of  the  defrauded  landlord,  and  go  off  with 
me  in  triumph  ? 

My  cylinders  seemed  twice  too  heavy  as  I  asked 
myself  these  questions;  but  hours  passed  on,  after 
Potin  and  Therese  had  gone  gloomily  away,  and  no- 
body with  whom  I  had  any  concern  came  in,  except 
a  man  whom  I  took  to  be  the  manager  of  the  Prince's 
hotel.  He  walked  in,  looked  me  over,  poked  at  my 
wheels  with  his  stick,  felt  the  covering  on  my  seats, 
and  sneered  at  the  crown  on  my  panels.  By  and  by 
he  returned  with  the  proprietor  of  the  garage,  and  the 
two  eagerly  discussed  my  personal  appearance  and  my 
value. 

The  hotel  manager — for  I  now  learned  without 
doubt  that  it  was  he — cheered  up  visibly  when  he 
learned  that  as  I  stood  I  was  worth  at  least  seven  or 

258 


Champion 

eight  hundred  pounds.  He  felt  safe  to  get  his  money 
back,  and  so,  of  course,  did  the  owner  of  the  garage; 
for  all  other  claims  which  might  be  raised,  they  said, 
would  come  after  theirs. 

That  same  afternoon  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ruggles  walked 
in,  followed  by  Potin,  who  had  evidently  made  an  ap- 
pointment with  them,  and  who  had,  meanwhile,  re- 
placed my  repaired  steering-gear  and  bonnet. 

The  millionaire  and  his  millionairess  were  sad. 
They  shook  their  heads  and  repeated  again  and  again, 
"Who  ever  would  have  thought  it?  Such  nice, 
friendly  people,  too !  Well,  well,  it  is  a  blow !" 

The  proprietor  of  the  garage  was  present,  too,  and 
interpreted  between  Potin  and  Mr.  Ruggles,  for  he 
could  speak  some  English.  Mr.  Ruggles  had  decided 
to  buy  a  car  and  to  take  Potin  for  his  chauffeur.  So 
much  was  arranged,  but  Potin  was  anxious  for  his  new 
master  to  have  me,  and  Mr.  Ruggles  thought  well  of 
the  plan.  It  was  almost  settled,  indeed,  when  Mrs. 
Ruggles  broke  in. 

"No,  I  believe  I  just  couldn't  stand  it!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "After  all  the  good  times  we've  had  in  this 
car  with  the  poor  Prince  and  Princess!  I  couldn't 
bear  to  be  reminded  of  them  every  minute.  It  would 
make  me  sick.  No,  I'd  rather  have  a  new  motor  with- 
out any  associations,  so  you'll  get  one  if  you  want 
me  to  be  happy." 

259 


Champion 

Poor,  fat,  red  Mr.  Ruggles  did  want  her  to  be 
happy  more  than  he  wanted  anything  else,  so  he  said 
that  he  must  look  elsewhere  to  make  a  purchase. 
Potin  was  disappointed;  but  he  had  his  engagement; 
after  all,  the  car  did  not  matter.  I  felt  that  I  was 
being  abandoned  when  the  three  turned  and  left  me, 
without  a  backward  look. 

Potin  never  came  again  to  the  garage,  nor  did  the 
Ruggles.  I  saw  no  more  familiar  faces,  save  that  of 
the  man  who  owned  the  place  and  his  employees.  The 
season,  which  had  been  unusually  long,  on  account  of 
bad  weather  in  less  favored  parts  of  the  world,  was 
over — snuffed  out.  The  English  chauffeur  and  his  car 
were  gone;  the  pert  Mercedes  was  gone.  At  last  I 
was  alone  in  the  garage,  save  for  a  couple  of  automo- 
biles which  belonged  to  the  proprietor,  and  were  let 
out  on  hire  by  him. 

Every  day,  nearly,  somebody  came  in  and  looked  at 
me,  talking  over  my  points:  Russians,  Germans, 
Frenchmen,  who  lingered  for  the  gambling,  though 
the  gaieties  were  over.  But  these  people  were  of  a  dif- 
ferent class  from  those  who  had  frequented  Monte 
Carlo  earlier  in  the  spring.  They  had  not  much 
money;  they  wished  to  do  things  "on  the  cheap."  They 
bargained  and  haggled  and — went  away.  I  remained. 
But  one  day  t.he  manager  of  the  hotel  where  my 

"Prince  and  Princess"  had  stayed  came  in,  bringing 

260 


Champion 

with  him  a  tired-looking  young  man  in  gray  flannels 
and  a  Panama  hat. 

"Where  had  I  seen  that  interesting,  anemic  face 
before?"  I  wondered.  Then  I  remembered.  He  was 
Mr.  Boyle-Smith,  and  he  must  be  rich,  or  the  Prince 
would  not  have  encouraged  him.  I  listened  while  he 
talked  to  the  manager.  He  had  been  yachting  with 
friends.  They  had  been  to  Genoa,  to  Leghorn,  and 
had  run  over  to  Corsica.  Now  the  yacht  had  brought 
him  back  to  Monte  Carlo.  He  and  his  friends  were 
having  "a  little  gamble"  before  they  went  home.  Quite 
a  surprise  to  hear  that  the  Prince's  car  hadn't  been  sold 
yet.  Had  they  ever  found  out  who  the  man  and  his 
wife  really  were?  No?  Clever  of  them  to  get  away 
like  that.  Pretty  little  woman.  Rather  fun  to  know 
what  they  were  up  to  now.  He'd  lost  a  little  money 
by  them — not  much ;  a  bit  he'd  given  "the  Prince"  for 
some  shares — bogus  ones,  of  course.  Oh !  well,  an  ex- 
perience. For  his  part  he  wished  the  man  and  woman 
no  harm.  Really,  he  didn't  care  much  about  motor- 
ing. Hated  anything  mechanical,  and  didn't  think  he 
liked  adventures.  But — oh,  yes — certainly  it  was  a 
handsome  car.  He  might  think  of  it,  perhaps. 

Two  or  three  days  later  he  appeared  again,  tapped 
me  here  and  there  with  the  air  of  a  proprietor,  said  he 
would  keep  the  crowns  on  the  panels  to  remind  him 

of  the  Prince,  and  bought  me  at  the  ridiculous,  hu- 

261 


Champion 

miliating  price  of  five  hundred  guineas.  But,  as  the 
hotel  manager  and  the  owner  of  the  garage  said  to 
each  other,  I  was  so  queer  that  nobody  understood  me, 
and  anything  was  better  than  to  keep  me  over  till  next 
season. 

This  to  be  said  of  Champion,  Champion  the  in- 
vincible, Champion  the  unique !  But  my  greatness  was 
fallen.  No  one  was  capable  of  appreciating  me — no 
one  guessed  that  in  possessing  me  they  possessed  a 
treasure  beyond  their  poor  calculation.  Any  wretched, 
middle-class,  forty  or  sixty  horse-power  car  of  known 
make  was  easier  to  sell  and  had  a  right  to  put  on  airs 
of  superiority  over  me.  This  was  galling,  but,  thank 
my  maker,  I  had  enough  sense  of  humor  in  my  metal 
to  be  faintly,  if  bitterly,  amused. 

Thus  I  became  the  property  of  Mr.  Boyle-Smith, 
not  only  a  parvenu,  but  a  person  utterly  outside  the 
automobile  world.  He  had  decided  that  it  was  the  cor- 
rect thing,  nowadays,  to  own  a  motor-car,  and  be  able 
to  talk  about  it,  because  all  his  smartest  friends  had 
cars  and  the  jargon  of  them  on  the  tips  of  their 
tongues.  I  discerned  this  state  of  things  in  the  first 
conversation  which  I  naturally  overheard  in  the  gar- 
age, and  I  knew  he  was  a  fool  as  far  as  motor  knowl- 
edge was  concerned,  from  the  very  way  he  tapped  my 
body,  and  peered  with  would-be  knowingness  at  me, 

in  all  the  wrong  places.     Then,  when  he  was  in  the 

262 


C  ft  a  m  p  i  o  n 

throes  of  engaging  a  chauffeur,  other  secret  places  of 
his  character  were  laid  bare  to  me.  Not  that  there 
was  much  credit  to  a  brilliant  piece  of  mechanism  like 
me  in  discovering  these  secrets,  for  they  were  about 
as  intricate  as  the  inner  workings  of  those  glassy- 
looking  jelly-fish  I  have  seen  sometimes  by  the  sea- 
shore, when  running  along  a  road  near  a  beach. 

Mr.  William  Boyle-Smith  enjoyed  letting  strangers 
know  that  he  was  rich — his  father  had  made  the 
money  in  ladies'  corsets  or  something  of  that  sort, 
which  even  an  automobile  doesn't  mention  aloud  in 
mixed  society — but  he  could  never  have  made  it  for 
himself  in  anything;  yet,  at  the  same  time,  he  was 
careful  to  sound  a  note  of  warning  that  he  was  a 
man  who  knew  the  value  of  money,  and  would  never 
be  induced  to  spend  a  penny  except  in  securing  due 
value  for  himself.  "Money  is  money,"  was  a  favor- 
ite axiom  of  his,  as  I  soon  learned;  as  if  any  one 
ever  doubted  it ! 

When  he  had  bought  and  paid  for  me,  I  remained 
in  the  garage,  until  he  could  engage  a  chauffeur  of 
superlative  skill,  combined  with  superlative  cheapness. 
This  rara  avis  was  apparently  difficult  to  secure,  for 
every  day  for  a  week  Mr.  William  Boyle-Smith  used 
to  saunter  into  the  garage  once  or  twice  to  interview 
some  young  man  recommended  by  the  proprietor,  or 

by  a  person  outside;  now  a  young  man  from  Nice, 

263 


Champion 


now  a  young  man  from  over  the  Italian  border;  now 
a  young  man  left  stranded  in  Monte  Carlo  itself  by 
an  employer  who  had  been  unfortunate  at  the  "tables." 
But  always  the  young  man  would  prove  either  in- 
competent, or  else  too  expensive,  for  Mr.  Boyle-Smith 
had  irrevocably  made  up  his  mind  at  the  fag-end  of 
the  season  no  chauffeur  ought  to  ask  more  than  fifty 
francs  a  week  and  "find  himself."  He  wanted  to  be 
able  to  impress  his  friends  with  his  sharpness  in  screw- 
ing a  first-rate  mechanic  down  to  this  price. 

At  last  he  was  more  successful  than  he  deserved  to 
be ;  but  I  chuckled  a  little,  maliciously,  under  my  petrol, 
when  I  saw  the  youth  of  whose  prowess  he  boasted 
to  the  owner  of  the  garage.  Franz  Krumm  was  the 
creature's  name,  and  he  confessed  in  my  presence, 
apparently  without  shame,  to  having  been  born  in  a 
small  place  called  Emmerich,  which  would,  I  believe, 
scarcely  appear  on  a  map,  if  it  were  not  a  frontier 
town.  Now,  my  own  experience,  and  that  of  other 
motors  with  whom  I  had  made  acquaintance,  assured 
me  that  frontier  towns  and  people  unfortunately  born 
in  frontier  towns,  are  never  of  the  slightest  interest 
or  importance  in  themselves. 

Could  any  German  be  expected  to  drive  a  car  so 
foreign  to  his  order  of  intelligence  as  I  was  and  am? 
Franz  Krumm  had  all  the  stolidness  of  a  German 
without  any  of  the  German  intellectuality  or  splendid 

264 


Champion 

obstinancy  which  I  have  observed  in  finer  specimens 
of  that  nation.  Practically,  he  had  no  features.  Cer- 
tain lumps  and  depressions  gave  a  vague  effect  of 
a  face,  as  if  some  childish  hands  had  modeled  his 
head  in  dough  and  baked  it.  He  was  addicted  to 
saying  "Soh!"  and  his  principal  attraction  to  Mr. 
Boyle-Smith  lay  in  the  fact  that  he  could  speak  a 
little  English — a  language  that  he  had  more  probably 
learned  as  a  waiter  than  as  a  chauffeur.  Also,  he 
was  willing  to  accept  the  fifty  francs;  and  his  new 
employer  might  even  have  beaten  him  down  to  less, 
perhaps,  if  it  had  occurred  to  him  to  try. 

Franz  had  driven  a  Benz,  and  the  Benz  had  been 
burnt  up  in  a  garage  at  Nice,  since  when  Franz  had, 
I  imagine,  fared  badly,  his  own  name — if  one  may 
make  an  execrable  pun — being  almost  the  only  crumb 
he  had  had  to  subsist  upon.  He  thought  he  could  drive 
me;  and,  under  the  eye  of  Boyle-Smith,  made  a 
sweating  and  tremulous  examination  of  my  parts. 

It  was  really  a  desecration  that  such  as  he  should 
touch  me,  but  soft  and  kindly  air  has  ever  filled  my 
cylinders  since  the  days  when  they  were  cast;  and  I 
was  sorry  for  the  unfortunate  creature,  who  might 
starve  if  he  failed  to  obtain  this  engagement.  I 
made  myself  as  little  obscure  as  I  could,  and,  owing 
to  my  leniency,  he  did  seem  to  arrive  at  some  vague, 

far-off  understanding  of  my  mechanism. 

265 


Champion 

That  afternoon  he  took  me  out,  and  it  is  needless 
to  say  that  the  anemic  Boyle-Smith  did  not  risk  his 
precious  life  in  the  experiment.  He  stood,  trying  to 
look  brave  and  debonair,  watching  Krumm  steer  me 
out  of  the  garage,  and  jumped  aside  once  with  a 
whistle,  as  I  tried  to  run  over  his  pointed,  russet 
leather  toe. 

Owing  to  my  forbearance  and  good  nature,  poor 
Krumm  did  not  disgrace  himself,  or  injure  me.  I 
was  half-tempted  to  let  him  come  to  grief  two  or 
three  times,  when  he  was  particularly  stupid,  but  the 
kind  airs  in  my  cylinders  forbade.  Besides,  I  re- 
flected that,  if  I  had  to  remain  shut  up  all  summer  in 
the  Monte  Carlo  garage,  not  only  should  I  dete- 
riorate, but  I  should  for  many  months  miss  all  chance 
of  encountering  my  dear  Master.  I  knew  that  it  was 
Boyle-Smith's  intention  to  take  me  to  England,  and 
it  was  in  England  that  I  was  most  likely  now  to  run 
across  my  beloved  Hugh  Cameron. 

More  weeks  than  I  was  able  to  count  had  passed 
since  the  glorious  and  terrible  day  of  the  race;  and,  as 
he  was  said  to  have  recovered,  I  thought  it  probable 
that  he  had  by  this  time  gone  back  to  the  land  across 
the  Channel.  To  be  sure,  he  had  no  real  home,  but 
I  believed  that  he  loved  the  island  which  had  given 
us  both  birth,  and  would  wish  to  return  there  as  soon 

as  he  was  able.    Some  day  I  might  see  him  again,  and 

266 


Champion 

though  it  would  only  be  by  a  miracle  that  he  could 
recognize  me,  changed  as  I  was,  still,  the  one  thing 
I  had  left  to  hope  for  in  life  was  that  miracle. 

I  behaved  myself  like  a  lamb  in  the  hands  of  poor 
Krumm,  and  he  was,  accordingly,  engaged  as  my 
chauffeur.  On  a  blazing  day  of  June,  when  nobody 
was  left  in  Monte  Carlo  except  a  few  Russians,  Ger- 
mans, and  declasses  cosmopolitans,  we  bumbled  out  of 
the  garage,  of  which  I  was  now  sick  to  death. 

I  carried  only  Boyle-Smith  and  Krumm,  for  my 
latest  owner  was  far  too  stingy  to  invite  a  guest  whom 
he  would  have  had  to  entertain  during  the  journey  at 
his  expense.  I  had  a  little  luggage,  too,  of  course; 
but  my  whole  load  was  so  light  I  might  have  thought 
there  was  no  more  than  a  fly  sitting  on  my  bonnet. 

My  front  glass  had  been  replaced  now,  but  it  was 
far  too  hot  to  keep  it  down ;  and,  amid  clouds  of  white 
dust,  I  ran  back  along  the  white  roads  over  which  the 
Prince  and  Princess  had  brought  me  long  ago.  When 
I  say  "ran,"  however,  I  speak  but  figuratively.  In 
spite  of  the  kindest  intentions,  I  could  not  run  for 
Krumm.  He  did  not  know  how  to  change  my  speeds 
properly ;  he  had  taken  no  pains  to  study  my  little  ways 
and  whims ;  he  had  bought  the  cheapest  oil  and  petrol, 
and  in  spite  of  my  light  load  I  often  gasped  for  breath, 
or  coughed  to  get  rid  of  a  grit  in  my  carbureter. 

Instead  of  spinning  swiftly  and  smoothly  on,  cover- 

267 


Champion 

ing  long  distances  each  day,  we  were  obliged  to  stop 
frequently,  making  short  journeys.  Often,  because 
I  had  not  been  cleaned  decently,  I  had  to  slow  down, 
and  sometimes  we  were  en  panne  for  hours,  Krumm's 
ignorance  being  entirely  to  blame,  or  his  master's 
meanness,  while  I  got  the  credit  of  all  discomforts 
and  disasters. 

Finally,  my  new  owner  grew  to  hate  me  as  heartily 
as  I  despised  him,  and  I  heard  him  tell  Krumm  that 
if  this  was  automobiling,  the  less  he  had  of  it  in  the 
future,  the  better  he  would  be  pleased.  As  soon  as 
he  got  me  to  England,  said  he,  he  would  sell  me  for 
any  price  he  could  get — perhaps  put  me  up  at  auction. 

But  men  propose,  and — sometimes — motors  dispose. 
The  day  after  we  landed — at  Southampton,  as  it  hap- 
pened— things  went  beyond  even  my  endurance.  I 
lost  my  temper,  owing  to  a  piece  of  stupidity  on 
Krumm's  part,  he  having  forgotten  to  screw  up  any 
of  my  nuts  before  starting,  and  a  few  miles  out  of  the 
town  my  steering-gear  went  wrong.  I  butted  into 
a  wall — luckily  for  the  pair  of  incompetents  aboard, 
I  was  crawling  at  the  time — bruised  my  bonnet,  dis- 
located my  steering-post,  and  tossed  the  two  men  into 
a  ditch. 


268 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

/  Fall  Upon  Evil  Days. 

I  was  so  out  of  patience  with  Boyle-Smith  and  his 
Krumm  that  I  almost  enjoyed  the  hard  bump;  for  if 
I  had  suffered,  they  suffered  as  much  and  even  more. 

Two  more  disheveled,  wretched-looking  individuals 
than  they,  as  presently  they  scrambled,  grumbling  and 
groaning,  out  of  the  mud,  cannot  be  imagined.  There 
was  a  little  water  at  the  bottom  of  the  ditch  into  which 
I  had  skilfully  tossed  them;  water  coated  with  green 
slime,  of  which  they  had  involuntarily  accepted  gen- 
erous samples.  Their  clothes  were  torn,  and  in  a 
shocking  state;  and  though  they  ought  to  have  been 
thanking  their  lucky  stars  for  the  preservation  of 
their  necks,  they  indulged,  instead,  in  futile  maledic- 
tions. Boyle-Smith  scolded  Krumm,  and  Krumm 
blamed  me.  He  defended  himself  by  saying  that  I 
was  a  beastly  car,  that  no  one  but  a  saint  could  drive 
me,  and  that  I  had  caused  him  more  anguish  in  ten 
days  than  he  had  known  before  in  the  whole  course 
of  his  life. 

"All  right,  you  can  go,  then,  and  find  a  better  car," 
yapped  Boyle-Smith,  wiping  red  blood  and  green  vege- 
tation from  his  nose  and  mouth.  He  added  a  few 

269 


Champion 

other  remarks,  not  only  uncomplimentary  to  his  chauf- 
feur, but  to  the  chauffeur's  country  people  in  general, 
and  his  relations  in  particular. 

Even  a  Krumm  will  turn,  it  would  seem ;  and  certain 
of  Boyle-Smith's  adjectives,  applied  to  Germany  as 
a  nation,  were  the  two  or  three  straws  too  much  for 
him  to  bear.  He  was  poor,  he  was  an  alien  in  a 
strange  land,  but  he  happened  to  be  a  patriot;  and  for 
the  first  time  I  surprised  myself  by  almost  admiring 
Krumm  as  he  stood  up  to  his  purse-proud  little  em- 
ployer. He  took  Boyle-Smith  at  his  word,  which  the 
anemic  youth  was  far  from  expecting  at  the  moment ; 
also  he  took  the  opportunity  of  avenging  old  iniquities 
by  telling  his  master  exactly  what  he  thought  of  him. 
When  he  had  finished,  he  grabbed  his  humble  hand-bag 
from  under  my  front  seat — his  sole  possession — and, 
without  even  demanding  such  wages  as  were  due  to 
him — I  happened  to  know  he  had  been  paid  for  a 
week  the  day  before  yesterday — he  marched  stolidly 
off  back  toward  Southampton,  leaving  a  trail  of  green 
slime  behind  him. 

The  unfortunate  Boyle- Smith  was — to  use  a  favo- 
rite expression  of  Mr.  Ruggles — flabbergasted,  and 
would,  I  am  sure,  have  burst  into  tears  if  several 
vehicles  had  not  been  approaching,  to  keep  up  his 
pride.  One  of  these  was  a  farmer's  cart,  drawn  by 

a  huge,  upstanding  Shire  horse,  with  great  feathery 

270 


"HE  TOOK  THE  OPPORTUNITY  OF  AVENGING  OLD    INIQUITIES." 

0».  270.) 


Champion 

legs,  like  a  giant  bantam.  The  cart  was  big  and  new, 
and  was  driven  by  a  jolly,  red- faced  young  fellow, 
who  looked  excellently  satisfied  with  that  state  of  life 
to  which  it  had  pleased  Heaven  to  call  him. 

A  greater  contrast  between  this  man  and  the  pigmy 
Boyle-Smith  could  not  be  imagined,  and  an  expression 
of  good-natured  contempt  overspread  the  country- 
man's countenance  when  he  saw  me,  en  panne,  by  the 
roadside,  with  my  dilapidated  owner  feebly  gesticu- 
lating. He  slowed  down  his  fine  beast,  however,  in 
response  to  a  shout  from  Boyle-Smith,  and  listened  to 
the  gentleman's  tale  of  woe:  the  damaged  car;  the 
absconding  chauffeur;  the  helpless  and  suffering  con- 
dition of  the  motorist. 

"I  have  some — er — distant  sort  of  relatives  who 
have  a  place  near  here — must  be  quite  close,  along  this 
road,  or  just  off  it,  perhaps.  Could  you  tow  me 
there?"  inquired  my  owner. 

"If  it  isn't  too  far  out  of  my  way,  sir,"  answered 
the  countryman.  "I'm  a  bit  late  as  it  is,  but  I'll  be 
sorry  to  seem  disobliging." 

"-The  name  of  the  place  is  Laylor  Hall,"  said  Boyle- 
Smith,  "and,  my— er — the  ladies  who  live  there  are 
called  Brenton." 

"The  Miss  Brentons!  Oh,  yes,  sir,  I  know  them 
well.  They've  turned  the  old  hall  into  a  boarding- 
house  these  last  two  years,"  exclaimed  the  young 

271 


Champion 

farmer  jovially.  "They're  neighbors  of  ours,  and  get 
their  milk  from  us,  since  they've  given  up  cow-keeping. 
I  can  give  you  a  tow  there  as  well  as  not.  I've  got 
a  bit  of  rope.  Hope  it's  stout  enough  for  that  big  car 
of  yours." 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  ask  how  much  you'll  charge?" 
weakly  inquired  Boyle-Smith,  who  could  always  afford 
any  luxury  for  himself,  but  was  constitutionally  averse 
to  parting  with  a  penny  more  than  necessary  for 
others. 

The  red-faced  young  man's  eyes  flashed.  "You  can 
give  what  you  like,  sir,  or  nothing  at  all,"  said  he. 
"I've  said  I'll  tow  you,  and  that  stands." 

What  Boyle-Smith  did  give — or  offer  to  give — in 
the  end,  was  half  a  crown,  for  a  three-mile  tow;  and 
when  the  farmer  refused  to  take  it  and  went  off  with- 
out a  penny,  I  believe  that  he  was  pleased. 

I  had  been  dragged  through  a  wide,  open  gateway, 
and  an  apparently  untenanted  porter's  lodge,  up  r, 
winding  avenue,  through  a  kind  of  wilderness  which 
must  once  have  been  a  beautiful  park.  After  some- 
thing more  than  a  quarter  of  a  mile  of  this,  I  arrived 
in  front  of  an  old,  red-brick  house  with  stone  facings, 
and  it  was  there  that  I  was  unroped  and  abandoned  by 
the  half -amused,  half -indignant  farmer. 

Mr.  Boyle-Smith  knocked  and  rang  at  a  door  of 

faded  oak,  cracked  and  hungry  looking  for  want  of 

272 


C  h  a  m  p  <  e  n 


oil.  It  was  some  time  before  he  was  admitted  by  a 
depressed-looking  old  man,  bald-headed,  with  a  face 
like  a  withered  winter  apple,  and  a  dress-suit  which 
could  not  stand  many  months  more  of  ironing  and 
brushing. 

This  person,  who  was,  no  doubt,  a  butler,  evidently 
recognized  the  newcomer,  but  did  not  appear  over- 
joyed to  see  him.  As  the  door  stood  open,  I  caught  a 
plimpse  of  a  large,  oak-paneled  hall,  which  must  once 
have  been  fine,  but  now  it  was  almost  bare  of 
furniture,  save  one  good  old  cabinet  of  carved  oak, 
containing  china.  I  saw  a  dilapidated  sofa,  a  few 
chairs,  literally  upon  their  last  legs,  and  a  rug  or  two, 
which  might  have  been  handsome,  but  were  now  faded 
and  threadbare,  apparently  mended  and  remended 
by  anxious,  careful  hands. 

These  sad  secrets  of  a  fallen  house  sprang  at  me  in 
a  moment;  then  the  door  closed  on  Mr.  Boyle-Smith, 
and  I  had  plenty  of  time  to  take  further  observations. 

I  had  heard  my  dear  Master,  in  old  days,  as  we  flew 
past  fine  old  places,  say  to  Arnaud;  "This  is  Eliza- 
bethan; this  is  Queen  Anne;  this  is  of  the  Georgian 
period,"  and  so  on.  Therefore,  as  I  never  forgot  any- 
thing that  he  said,  I  knew  that  Laylor  Hall  must  have 
been  built  in  the  days  of  Queen  Anne.  Judging  from 
appearance,  too,  both  outside  and  in,  as  far  as  I  was 
able  to  see,  it  wore  the  air  of  not  having  been  re- 

273 


Champion 

furnished  or  repaired  since.  Of  course,  this  thought 
was  doubtless  an  exaggeration  of  the  true  circum- 
stances; but,  at  least,  many  years  must  have  passed 
since  anything  had  been  done  for  the  preservation 
of  house  or  place. 

The  grass  of  the  lawn  which  surrounded  the  hall 
was  high  and  tangled,  and  choked  with  weeds.  A  vast 
clump  of  rhododendrons,  in  full  bloom,  had  degen- 
erated into  a  wild  growth,  such  as  might  be  seen  in  a 
wood.  Here  and  there  a  tree  in  the  park,  which  ringed 
in  this  charmingly  shaped  lawn,  was  so  old  that  it 
had  fallen  into  pitiful  decay.  There  was  a  young 
growth  of  bushes  and  brambles;  the  roses  in  a  large 
rosery  at  the  left  of  the  lawn  were  twisted  and  turned 
in  a  wild  thicket  of  red  and  pink  and  cream;  the  sun- 
dial was  covered  with  creepers;  some  of  the  windows 
of  the  house  were  half-curtained  with  a  dark  drapery 
of  ivy;  yet,  in  spite  of  the  desolation,  the  poor  old 
place  retained  traces  of  great  beauty;  and  the  mellowed 
red  brick  of  the  rambling  hall,  the  green  of  the  slo- 
ping lawn,  and  the  crimson  of  the  rhododendrons  were 
softened  into  an  exquisite  picture  under  the  mirrow- 
like  surface  of  a  miniature  lake. 

As  I  stood  taking  in  my  surroundings,  and  wonder- 
ing how  long  they  were  to  be  mine,  a  party  of  young 
people  appeared  from  somewhere  behind  the  house, 

with  tennis-rackets  in  their  hands.     They  were  very 

274 


Champion 


common  young  people,  with  lumpish  features ;  the  two 
or  three  unattractive  men  in  knickerbockers  and  cloth 
caps,  which  might  have  been  bought  ready  made  for  a 
few  guineas  in  some  such  cheap  shop  as  I  had  often 
passed  in  London  suburbs.  The  girls  wore  imitation 
Panama  hats,  cotton  blouses,  and  serge  skirts,  longer 
at  the  back  than  in  the  front. 

Catching  sight  of  me,  they  hurried  across  the  weedy 
lawn,  and  formed  a  group  to  gaze  curiously. 

"Hello,  what's  this?"  exclaimed  one  of  the  young 
men,  who  looked  like  a  shop  assistant  out  on  a  holiday. 
"Looks  as  if  the  old  girls  had  got  hold  of  a  bloated 
millionaire,  eh?  What  a  treat  if  they  have!"  He  was 
very  careful  in  getting  out  his  "h's,"  and  made  the 
most  of  them. 

"Looks  as  if  there'd  been  a  smash,"  said  another 
youth,  tapping  my  bonnet  airily  with  his  tennis-bat. 
"My  brother-in-law  has  an  intimate  friend,  a  doctor, 
who  owns  a  motor,  so  I  know  something  about  them." 

"Goodness,  I  hope  it  won't  explode!"  giggled  the 
girl  who  evidently  thought  herself  the  beauty  of  the 
party. 

"Motor-cars  don't  explode  when  they're  standing 
still,"  explained  the  expert  patronizingly. 

"Well,  I  hope  not,"  murmured  the  pretty  girl. 

They  all  drew  a  little  nearer,  and  the  men  tried 
to  look  knowing  as  they  eyed  me. 

275 


C  h  ft  in  p  I  e 


"Atiy  man,  millionaire  or  not,  might  get  let  in  by 
that  advertisement  of  the  old  girls'/'  went  on  the 
young  man  who  cherished  his  h's.  "It  caught  me, 
I  can  tell  you.  'Two  ladies,  of  old  county  family, 
willing,  for  the  sake  of  companionship,  to  entertain 
a  few  paying  guests,  who  will  be  made  to  feel  as  if 
they  were  members  of  a  house-party,  in  a  magnificent 
old  Queen  Anne  mansion,  with  priceless  furniture, 
historic  pictures,  and  heirlooms.'  That  was  the  way  it 
went,  wasn't  it?" 

"It  was  the  very  words,"  chuckled  another  youth  of 
the  same  caliber.  "And  in  the  Morning  Post,  too. 
You  have  the  feeling  that  everything  you  see  in  the 
Morning  Post  must  be  really  smart,  you  know." 

"The  births  and  marriages  you  can  depend  upon," 
put  in  the  pretty  girl's  sister;  "and  the  deaths,  too,  for 
the  matter  of  that." 

"I'll  bet  our  deaths'll  go  in  soon,  if  they  don't  give 
us  more  to  eat,"  said  the  first  young  man. 

"Well,  it  is  cheap,"  admitted  the  pretty  girl.  "A 
guinea  a  week;  and  some  of  the  rooms  are  eighteen 
shillings." 

"I'm  in  one  of  them,"  sighed  a  youth  who  had  not 
spoken  yet.  "My  bed's  a  hospital-cot.  The  sheets  are 
made  of  patches.  The  only  chair  I've  got  came  to 
bits  last  night." 

"Anyhow,  there's  a  lovely  view  from  the  windows, 

276 


Champion 

and  it  is  a  grand  old  place,"  remarked  the  pretty  girl's 
sister.  "One  can  say  one  has  been  staying  with  a 
house-party  at  Laylor  Hall.  It  sounds  all  right.  And 
we  have  fun  romping  in  the  ballroom,  evenings." 

"We  could  have  good  dancing,  if  the  piano  would 
do  anything  but  squeak,"  said  the  pretty  girl. 

"It's  more  spinet  than  piano,"  chuckled  some  one. 

"Well,  I'm  sorry  for  the  poor  old  ladies.  It's  hard 
on  them,  for  they  are  ladies,  and  they  do  the  best 
they  can,"  went  on  the  pretty  girl's  sister. 

"It's  a  mighty  poor  best,"  grumbled  the  first  young 
man.  "But  here  we  are,  thanks  to  that  advertise- 
ment; and  a  goodish  way  from  London.  I  suppose 
we'll  finish  out  the  holiday  here,  my  chum  and  me. 
We'll  worry  through,  if  you  young  ladies  can." 

"We  like  the  air,"  loftily  replied  the  pretty  girl. 
"I  must  confess  I  did  expect,  from  the  advertisement, 
to  find  myself  among  titled  people,  knights,  or  honor- 
ables  at  the  least ;  but  never  mind.  We've  no  fault  to 
find  with  the  company,  except  the  old  tabbies  who  are 
shocked  because  we  laugh  in  the  hall  after  they've 
gone  to  bed,  about  nine.  For  the  Misses  Brentons' 
sake,  I  wish  the  house  was  fuller;  but  for  ours,  I'm 
very  well  satisfied  as  it  is";  and  she  gave  a  glance 
which,  though  it  included  all  the  young  men,  might 
have  been  appropriated  by  any  one  of  them. 

At  this  moment  the  door  was  thrown  open  by  the 

277 


Champion 

moth-eaten  old  butler,  and  out  came  two  elderly  ladies, 
accompanied  by  Mr.  Boyle-Smith.  They  were  little 
ladies,  and  gave  the  impression  of  having  shrunk  a 
good  deal,  owing  to  the  wear  and  tear  of  life;  never- 
theless they  had  a  certain  dignity,  which  comes  of  good 
blood.  They  were  dressed  alike,  in  old-fashioned 
black  stuff,  which  might  have  been  turned  and  turned 
again;  and  though  they  might  have  been  of  any  age 
from  forty-eight  to  sixty,  their  thin;  oval  faces  still 
kept  a  curiously  original,  almost  girlish  look.  Some- 
how they  reminded  me  of  pale  roses  that  had  been 
gathered  while  they  were  still  in  bud,  and  pressed  for 
many  years  between  the  pages  of  a  book.  Poor  little 
old  ladies!  My  cylinders  warmed  to  them  at  first 
glance;  and  I  thought  that  Mr.  William  Boyle-Smith 
ought  to  be  exceedingly  proud  of  the  right  to  call  them 
"Cousin  Bettina"  and  "Cousin  Alicia,"  instead  of 
seeming  half-ashamed  of  the  relationship,  before  the 
group  of  "paying  guests." 

Once,  no  doubt,  these  little  faded  Misses  Brentons, 
with  their  fine  old  home,  had  been  relations  of  whom 
such  people  as  Boyle-Smith  had  sprung  from  must 
have  been  delighted  to  claim  kin  with.  But  now  they 
had  come  down  in  the  world — as  I  had! — and  the 
Boyle-Smiths  had  gone  up  as  far  as  money  could  carry 
them.  The  Miss  Brentons  were  "poor  relations"  in 
these  changed  days,  and  young  Boyle-Smith  was  in  a 

278 


Champion 


position  to  swagger — a  chance  of  which  he  naturally 
availed  himself. 

The  paying  guests,  who  called  their  hostesses  "old 
girls"  behind  the  old  ladies'  dignified  little  backs,  were, 
nevertheless,  somewhat  in  awe  of  them  when  face  to 
face,  it  seemed,  for  they  retired  slowly  into  the  back- 
ground, anxious  as  I  knew  they  were  to  learn  all 
details  concerning  me. 

Mr.  Boyle-Smith  made  a  great  adventure  out  of  the 
slight  accident,  alluded  to  his  chauffeur  as  a  "danger- 
ous ruffian,"  and  intimated  that  the  wretch  had  had 
to  be  driven  away  before  he  would  accept  a  dismissal. 
He  went  on  to  mention  with  apparent  inadvertence 
some  of  the  grand  friends  with  whom  he  had  been 
spending  his  time  abroad,  said  he  had  bought  his  car 
of  a  "great  pal,"  Prince  Vasilievna,  but  that  he  was 
tired  of  it  now,  and  wanted  one  of  higher  powe-r. 

"That  is  always  the  way  with  us  motorists,"  he 
continued,  delighted  to  see  that  he  was  impressing  the 
ladies.  "We  always  want  something  bigger  and 
newer;  we're  never  satisfied.  Now,  I  paid  a  thousand 
pounds  for  this  motor" — that  was  a  forty  horse-power 
falsehood! — "but  already  I've  got  my  eye  on  another. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  stopped  here  instead  of  going 
back  to  Southampton  after  the  accident,  to  offer  the 
car  to  you  as  a  loan  until  I  make  up  my  mind  how  to 
dispose  of  it." 

279 


Champion 

"Dear  me,  that  is  very  kind  of  you,  I  am  sure,  Will- 
iam," said  Miss  Brenton  the  elder,  who  was  Cousin 
Bettina,  "but  Alicia  and  I  know  nothing  about  auto- 
mobiles." 

"We  might,  perhaps,  learn,"  suggested  Miss  Alicia, 
who  was  evidently  the  more  ambitious,  as  well  as  the 
younger,  of  the  two;  "that  is,  if  William  means  to 
offer  us  the  use  of  the  car." 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course,"  said  William,  his  boiled-goose- 
berry eye  betraying  his  conviction  that  he  was  saddling 
his  relations  with  a  white  elephant.  "Oh,  yes,  use  it 
as  much  as  you  like — if  you  can  find  a  chauffeur  to 
understand  it — or  you  might  like  to  pick  up  the  art 
of  driving  yourself.  It's  quite  easy,  and  would  save 
expense." 

"A  nice  figure  Alicia  would  make  driving  that  great 
thing!"  cooed  Miss  Bettina.  "A  mouse  driving  a 
pumpkin  coach.  It  gives  me  a  nightmare  even  to 
think  of  it.  But  certainly  we  will  keep  your  car  till 
you  wish  to  send  for  it,  William.  Unfortunately  for 
us,  our  stables  are  empty  in  these  days.  You  can 
hardly  expect  a  garage  here,  but  we  will  do  the  best 
we  can  to  give  shelter  to  your  property." 

"But  think  how  it  would  add  to  the  attraction  of  our 
advertisement  if  we  could  put :  'a  motor-car  for  use 
of  the  guests  at  Laylor  Hall!'  "  pleaded  Miss  Alicia. 

"It  would  bring  us  so  up  to  date;  and  you  remember, 

280 


Champion 


sister,  those  horrid  Higginsons  who  turned  round  and 
went  home  when  they  saw  the  pony-chaise  at  the 
station." 

Miss  Bettina  reflected,  her  thin  little  face  falling 
into  anxious  lines. 

"Isn't  a  motor  very  expensive  to  keep,  William?" 
she  asked. 

"Costs  next  to  nothing,"  ribbed  Boyle-Smith,  unable 
to  look  me  in  the  lamps;  for  everything  about  me 
shouted  the  word  money.  I  could  not  help  that.  I 
was  not  to  blame  for  it ;  .but  I  knew  that  it  was  a  fact. 
I  was  an  expensive  luxury,  and  utterly  unsuitable  to 
Laylor  Hall  in  these  its  evil  days. 

Nevertheless,  it  ended  in  the  Miss  Brentons  agree- 
ing to  take  me  over.  Evidently  Mr.  Boyle-Smith  was 
so  disgusted  with  motoring  and  motors,  that  he  was 
determined  to  rid  himself  of  the  incubus.  His  cousins, 
poor  little  old  ladies,  had  been  brought  up  to  respect 
and  obey  male  intelligence,  even  intelligence  of  the 
Boyle-Smith  order;  and  it  was  not  difficult  to  per- 
suade them  that  I  would  prove  not  only  an  ornament, 
but  a  boon  and  a  blessing  to  the  establishment. 

Three  or  four  men  who  had  been  working  in  the 
fields  of  a  neighboring  farm  were  employed  to  pull, 
push,  and  tug  me  to  the  stables,  where  I  was  wheeled 
into  a  large  loose-box,  draped  with  cobwebs.  Boyle- 
Smith  said  that  my  injuries  were  insignificant,  and 

281 


Champion 

that  he  would  send  a  mechanic  from  Southampton  to 
"put  me  straight."  This  promise  he  had  just  enough 
decency  to  keep;  but  he  might  have  known,  and  prob- 
ably did  know,  what  the  result  would  be.  The  man 
who  came  out  on  his  bicycle  to  Laylor  Hall  looked 
me  over,  evidently  puzzled  by  more  than  one  of  my 
features,  and  announced  to  the  two  old  ladies  who 
had  fluttered  out  with  him  to  the  stables,  that  to  be 
repaired  I  must  be  taken  to  Southampton. 

The  sisters  searched  each  other's  countenances  anx- 
iously. How  much  would  it  cost?  They  inquired. 

The  mechanic  answered  that  a  motor  would  have 
to  be  sent  "from  his  place"  to  tow  me  into  town ;  then, 
there  was  his  time  to-day;  and  the  repairs  would 
amount  to  anything  from  eight  to  twelve  pounds.  The 
whole  business  might,  at  most,  run  up  to  thirteen 
or  fourteen  guineas. 

The  little  old  ladies  grew  pale,  but  were  restrained 
by  pride  and  self-respect  from  giving  any  audible  vent 
to  their  emotion.  They  would  think  about  it,  they  re- 
plied. Such  a  matter  would  require  some  considera- 
tion. They  were  not  sure  whether  they  would  have 
enough  use  for  the  motor-car  to  justify  their  going 
to  such  expense.  They  paid  the  man  for  his  visit, 
with  as  much  politeness  as  if  he  had  been  a  doctor; 
and  my  cylinders  ached  for  them  as  I  saw  the  thin- 
ness of  Miss  Bettina's  pocketbook.  It  was  an  ancient 

282 


Champion 

thing  of  faded  purple  leather,  and  had  the  air  of  hav- 
ing been  handed  down  to  the  sisters  by  one  of  their 
parents.  When  the  mechanic  had  got  what  he  asked, 
nothing  seemed  to  be  left  in  it  but  pennies.  It  was 
like  Boyle-Smith  to  take  credit  to  himself  for  doing  a 
favor,  while  in  reality  he  thought  solely  of  his  own 
convenience.  He  was  now  far  away,  and  his  poor  but 
proud  relations  were  not  of  the  sort  who  would  follow 
him  up  with  appeals  for  money  to  get  them  out  of  the 
difficulty  in  which  they  had  been  landed  by  his  selfish- 
ness. 

From  time  to  time  the  worried  little  sisters  came 
together  in  the  loose-box,  sniffed  at  me,  sighed  over 
me,  and,  having  discussed  ways  and  means,  always 
reached  the  same  conclusion.  Things  were  not  going 
well  enough  at  Laylor  Hall  to  justify  an  expenditure 
of  even  ten  pounds  on  a  motor-car.  They  had  got 
along  without  such  a  thing  so  far,  and  must  continue 
to  do  so  for  the  present. 

So  the  dreary  days  went  on.  The  cobwebs  which 
draped  the  walls  draped  me  as  well.  I  grew  gray  with 
dust,  and  my  paint  began  to  crack,  my  machinery  to 
rust.  In  such  a  state  of  misery  was  I  reduced  that  I 
would  have  rejoiced  to  see  the  face  of  Boyle-Smith — 
that  mean  little  face  which  more  than  once  I  had  said 
to  myself  I  hoped  never  to  behold  again.  There  was 

a  season  when  I  hoped  that  he  might  realize  my  value 

283 


Champion 

and  come  and  claim  me,  perhaps  bringing  with  him 
an  expert  who  would  tell  him  what  a  treasure  he  had 
come  near  to  discarding.  If  this  should  happen,  I 
would  be  put  to  rights  and  taken  out  into  the  world 
again — the  world  where  my  dear  Master  lived  and — 
perhaps — thought  sometimes  of  me.  That  hope  died 
at  last,  as  the  summer  died;  but  there  was  always  the 
chance  that,  if  Boyle-Smith  never  intended  to  use  me 
again  himself,  his  economical  instincts  might  prompt 
him  to  sell  me  for  a  song  to  some  one  else.  But 
autumn  came  and  went.  My  loose-box  remained  shut 
up.  No  more  visits  of  inspection  were  paid  to  me  by 
the  Misses  Brenton.  No  hand  ever  touched  the  locked 
door  of  my  prison,  though  it  was  shaken  by  cold, 
wintry  winds,  and  soft  white  feathers  of  snow  drifted 
through  the  open  space  underneath. 

I  felt  myself  growing  old.  I  was  finished,  I  said 
to  myself.  I  should  never  see  my  Master  again.  There 
seemed  nothing  left  for  me  but  to  rot  and  rust,  and 
finally  fall  to  pieces  with  the  falling  fortunes  of  Lay- 
lor  Hall. 

A  year  in  the  life  of  an  ordinary  automobile  is 
equal  to  ten  years  in  the  life  of  a  horse,  for  the  legs 
of  a  horse  have  never  yet  been  superseded  by  any  new 
inventions  which  suit  him  better;  whereas,  every  suc- 
cessful make  of  motor  is  being  continually  improved. 

I  thought  sympathetically,  now,  of  the  poor  old  super- 

284 


C  fr  i  m  p  I  o  n 


animated  cars  I  had  sneered  at  in  the  pride  of  my 
youth  and  power.  Though  I  was  a  law  unto  myself, 
and  so  original  in  my  compositions  that  my  Master 
had  called  me  "day  after  to-morrow's  car,"  still,  by 
this  time,  he  or  some  one  else  had  perhaps  thought  of 
something  evert  more  marvelous  than  I  had  seemed 
at  birth. 

I  lost  count  of  the  days,  the  weeks,  the  months.  I 
knew  only  that  winter  had  passed  and  spring  had 
come,  because  the  cold  no  longer  poured  through  the 
crevices  round  the  door.  There  were  balmy  airs,  and 
glimpses  of  sunshine  from  the  happy  world  which  I 
hardly  expected  now  to  see  again.  Then  it  grew 
warm.  There  were  bright,  moonlit  nights  and  hot 
days.  Summer  had  come  once  more. 

I  slept  as  much  as  I  could,  by  the  way  of  forgetting 
my  hopeless  condition,  though  it  is  true  that  dreams 
made  me  sadder  than  before,  when  I  woke  again.  And 
one  morning  when  summer  seemed  to  have  lasted  for 
many  weeks  I  was  waked  from  a  doze  by  a  voice 
which  was  like  a  part  of  my  dream. 

In  my  sleep  I  had  been  traveling  to  Paris,  joyously 
carrying  my  handsome  young  Master  and  lovely  Lia 
Murray.  She  had  been  warning  him  against  Arnaud, 
and  I  was  wishing  with  all  my  might  that  he  would 
heed  her  words,  when  I  heard  her  voice  outside  the 
door  of  the  loose-box. 

285 


Champion 

"Is  this  where  you  keep  your  motor-car,  Miss  Bren- 
ton?"  the  voice  was  saying.  But  I  could  not  believe 
my  own  valves.  I  thought  that  I  was  not  really  awake, 
or  else  that  my  imagination  was  playing  me  a  trick. 

"Perhaps  I  am  in  my  second  motorhood,"  I  told 
myself.  But  something  was  going  to  happen.  For 
the  first  time  in  many  months  the  key  was  being  turned 
in  my  door,  and  I  would  know  in  a  moment  whether  I 
had  heard  the  voice  of  Lia  Murray  or  a  stranger. 


286 


CHAPTER  XX. 

/  Sing  "The  March  of  the  Cameron  Men.'* 

Creak — creak !  sounded  the  rusty  hinges.  The  door 
opened,  and  I  could  have  teuf-teufed  a  wild  song  of 
joy  and  welcome,  if  only  my  poor,  rusty  engine  had 
been  working. 

It  was  she — Lia,  and  Lia's  father;  and  with  them 
were  the  two  Miss  Brentons. 

No  wonder  I  had  thought  I  was  dreaaming.  That 
these  two,  out  of  all  the  people  in  the  wide  world, 
should  have  come  to  open  my  prison  doors  at  Laylor 
Hall,  seemed  little  short  of  a  miracle.  But  there  are 
some  things,  I  have  learned,  that  are  too  strange  not 
to  be  true. 

So  wonderful  did  it  seem  for  Lia  to  be  there,  that 
for  an  instant  I  believed  that  she  must  have  tracked 
me  to  this  place,  that  she  must  know  me  in  my  bulky, 
red  disguise,  and  have  come  to  rescue  me  from  half 
across  the  world.  But  my  first  look  at  her  face  showed 
me  that  this  wild  supposition  was  a  mistake.  She  was 
as  beautiful  as  ever,  more  womanly  looking  and  sedate, 
somehow,  though  not  a  day  older  in  appearance;  but 
not  the  faintest  sign  of  recognition  brightened  her 

eyes  as  she  turned  them  with  interest  upon  me. 

287 


C  h  a  m  p  I  o  fl 


"Why,  yes,"  she  said,  evidently  continuing  some 
conversation  with  the  Miss  Brentons,  "it  does  seem  a 
pity  to  shut  up  such  a  fine  big  car  and  not  use  it.  The 
poor  thing  is  simply  thick  with  dust  and  cobwebs,  and 
I  declare,  if  there  isn't  something  that  'looks  like  a 
mouse-nest  in  the  back  seat  in  the  tonneau !" 

This  explained  a  curious  tickling  sensation  I  had 
often  experienced  of  late,  and  had  been  at  a  loss  to 
account  for.  No  doubt  her  surmise  was  right.  I  was 
at  the  mercy  of  the  meanest  creatures,  who  had  the 
liberty  I  was  denied. 

"My  sister  and  I  have  been  somewhat  straitened  in 
our  finances,"  answered  the  elder  Miss  Brenton,  with 
gentle  dignity.  "And  our  cousin,  to  whom  the  car 
belongs,  has  been  on  a  yachting  excursion  with  friends, 
going  round  the  world.  We  haven't  heard  from  him, 
but  I  saw  in  a  paper  that  he  had  returned  the  other 
day,  and  arrived  in  London." 

Mr.  Murray  came  close  to  me,  and  began  examining 
me  in  a  blundering,  amateurish  way. 

"This  automobile  would  want  a  lot  of  doing  up, 
beyond  the  repairs,  before  it  would  be  fit  to  use," 
said  he. 

Miss  Alicia's  face  fell.  "Oh,  do  you  think  so?" 
she  sighed.  "Dear  me,  it  does  seem  as  if  everything 
was  against  us.  Bettina  and  I  talked  things  over, 

after  what  you  said  last  night,  and  when  your  daughter 

288 


Champion 

thought  you  and  she  might  like  to  hire  the  car  by  the 
day  the  rest  of  the  time  you — you  are  kind  enough  to 
stop  with  us,  we  fancied  that  we  might  be  able  to 
undertake  the  repairs  mentioned  by  a  mechanic  we 
once  called  in.  But  as  you  say,  now  that  one  comes 
to  see  the  thing,  it  does  look  as  if  a  great  deal  would 
have  to  be  done;  revarnishing,  perhaps;  and  I'm  afraid 
there  ought  to  be  recovering  for  the  seats." 

"There  certainly  ought,"  said  Mr.  Murray,  "and 
I  don't  know  much  about  such  things;  but  if  you've 
set  your  head  on  seeing  what  you've  got  left  of  Eng- 
land on  an  automobile  before  going  home,  I  guess 
we'd  better  hire  one  that's  ready." 

I  almost  burst  a  valve  on  hearing  this,  it  was  such 
agony  to  have  my  hopes  raised  to  the  sky  only  to  have 
them  dashed  to  earth  again.  It  was  a  good  thing  for 
my  reputation  that  I  was  not  working,  for  without 
doubt  I  should  have  been  attacked  with  failure  of  the 
ignition.  But  Lia  did  not  answer.  Her  eyes,  roving 
over  me,  had  rested  on  my  wheels. 

"Why,  Dad !"  she  exclaimed,  brushing  past  him  and 
bending  down  to  peer  more  closely,  "do  you  notice 
anything  strange  about  this  automobile?" 

"No,"  said  her  father,  "except  that  it  looks  like 
a  back  number,  gone  out  of  print." 

"The  wheels  are  exactly  like  those  on  Mr.  Cam- 
eron's car!"  the  girl  explained  excitedly. 

289 


Champion 

For  a  second  I  felt  as  if  my  carbureter  were  on 
fire,  but  I  cooled  down  again  in  thought  when  Mr. 
Murray  spoke  again. 

"What  Mr.  Cameron?"  he  asked  blankly. 

Gone  like  a  broken  sparking-plug  was  any  hope 
that  the  father  and  daughter  were  still  in  touch  with 
my  Master,  and  that,  through  them,  if  they  would  only 
hire  or  buy  me,  I  might  reach  him  again,  after  all. 
They  had  lost  sight  of  him;  nevertheless,  I  would 
rather  belong  to  Lia  Murray  than,  any  one  else  in  my 
world,  because  of  old,  happy  associations.  But  how 
could  I  dare  dream  that  she  would  accept  a  poor,  old, 
battered  wreck  such  as  I  must  now  appear,  covered 
with  dust  and  cobwebs  in  this  dingy  loose-box? 

"Oh,  Dad,  you  must  remember  Mr.  Cameron,"  the 
girl  reproached  her  father.  "Surely  you  know  whom 
I  mean?  That  splendid  young  Englishman  who  took 
me  to  Paris  in  his  car,  while  you  followed;  and  we 
went  to  his  race  to  see  him  win,  but  he  was  badly 
hurt." 

"Of  course  I  remember  him  well  enough,"  Mr.  Mur- 
ray said,  "but  I'd  forgotten  his  name,  and  we've  met 
such  bushels  of  people  since,  and  Camerons  and  Camp- 
bells, and  all  sorts  of  names  in  Scotland,  I  can't  pre- 
tend to  sort  them  out  in  my  mind,  and  ticket  the  right 
owners.  But  as  for  the  wheels  of  his  car,  I  don't 

know  that  they  were  different  from  any  others.     I 

290 


Champion 

only  know  his  car  was  no  more  like  this  than  a  race- 
horse is  like  a  hippopotamus." 

"No,  his  car  wasn't  like  this,"  admitted  Lia,  "but 
the  wheels  are  just  the  same.  They  had  ordinary  tires, 
you  know.  It  makes  me  quite  homesick  to  see  this 
automobile." 

I  guessed  then  that,  though  she  might  not  have  men- 
tioned my  Master  or  me  to  her  father  during  all  these 
long  months,  she  had  thought  of  us  often,  and  of  the 
glorious  day  when  we  spun  her  toward  Paris,  all  three 
happy  and  full  of  hope. 

Mr.  Murray  laughed.  "If  it  makes  you  homesick, 
we'd  better  go  back  to  the  house,"  said  he. 

"Noj  I  want  to  talk  to  you  here  about  this  car," 
she  objected.  "But  we  needn't  keep  the  Miss  Bren- 
tons.  You  see,"  she  went  on  to  the  sisters,  "I  want  to 
persuade  my  father  to  buy  this  automobile!" 

"Buy  this  old  ruin!"  exclaimed  Mr.  Murray.  "Of 
all  the " 

"It  isn't  a  ruin,"  broke  in  his  daughter.  "You  just 
wait  till  you  see  it  all  dusted  and  varnished,  and  new 
leather  on  the  seats.  It'll  be  a  beauty,  I  promise  you." 

"I  suppose  our  cousin  would  sell,"  replied  Miss 
Alicia.  "I  think  he  is  tired  of  motoring,  and  he 
seemed  to  have  taken  a  dislike  to  this  car." 

"We  won't  buy  it,  anyhow,  unless  he  pays  you  a 

commission  on  the  price  we  give,  because  that's  only 

291 


Champion 

fair,  and  you've  kept  it  for  him  a  long  time;  you  can 
say,  if  we  decide  to  take  it  off  his  hands,  it  must  be 
arranged  that  way,"  said  Lia,  as  shrewdly  as  if  in- 
stinct had  shown  her  a  chart  of  Mr.  Boyle-Smith's 
character. 

"I  don't  think  we'll  buy  it  on  any  terms,"  Mr.  Mur- 
ray put  in  stolidly.  "I'd  have  been  willing  to  hire  the 
automobile  for  you,  if  it  had  pleased  me  when  I  came 
to  see  it,  but " 

"Well,  we'll  just  talk  it  over,  anyway,  Dad;  and 
maybe  the  Miss  Brentons  will  let  us  stay  here,  where 
we  can  look  at  the  car,"  cut  in  Lia,  in  her  pretty,  coax- 
ing voice.  By  this  time,  my  petrol  would  have  been 
rising  with  hope  if  I  had  not  been  empty  these  many 
weary  months.  I  had  not  had  a  very  long  acquaintance 
with  Mr.  Murray  and  Miss  Cecilia ;  but  the  knowledge 
I  had  of  them  made  me  almost  sure  that,  if  she  had 
really  made  up  her  mind  she  wanted  me,  she  would 
get  me  in  the  end. 

The  two  Miss  Brentons  gladly  took  the  hint  con- 
veyed in  the  girl's  words;  and,  saying  they  would  go 
and  have  a  look  at  the  new  boy  who  was  doing  the 
garden,  they  pottered  away.  The  moment  their  backs 
were  turned  Lia  helped  herself  to  a  large  silk  hand- 
kerchief which  was  hanging  out  of  her  father's  pocket, 
and  dusted  off  my  front  seat — not  the  seat  with  the 

alleged  mouse-nest. 

292 


Champion 

"Now  let's  sit  here  and  pretend  we're  having  a 
spin,"  laughed  the  girl,  climbing  up.  "I'll  drive!"  and 
she  laid  her  little  warm  hand  on  my  battered  steering- 
wheel.  "Poor  old  car !  It  has  gone  through  the  wars ! 
But  it  can  easily  be  made  as  smart  as  new.  I  wish 
it  could  tell  us  its  story,  don't  you?" 

How  I  did  echo  that  wish,  and  how  surprised  she 
would  have  been,  could  it  have  been  granted! 

"This  seems  like  old  times,  doesn't  it,  dear?"  she 
asked  when  her  father — grumbling  a  little — had  hu- 
mored her  by  scrambling  to  the  place  by  her  side. 

"Anybody'd  think  you'd  spent  half  your  life  in  an 
automobile  to  hear  you  talk,  Lia,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 
"Except  that  day  going  to  Paris,  you  haven't  set  foot 
in  one  half  a  dozen  times  since." 

"Oh,  but  that  day  was  the  day  of  my  life,"  she  cried. 
"I  shall  never  forget  it — or  Mr.  Cameron." 

"I  don't  recall  hearing  you  mention  his  name  since 
the  day  we  learned  that  he  was  out  of  danger  from  his 
injuries,"  said  her  father. 

"Well,  we  left  France  and  went  to  Italy  that  very 
day.  There  were  lots  of  other  people  and  things  to 
talk  about,"  she  answered,  a  little  confused. 

"I  remember  being  a  bit  worked  up  because  you 
wouldn't  stir  till  you  heard  he  was  all  right,"  went 
on  the  old  gentleman.  "But  afterward,  when  you 
seemed  to  forget  him,  why,  my  mind  was  relieved, 

293 


Champion 

and  I  forgot  him,  too.  Not  that  he  wasn't  a  very  nice 
young  man." 

"He  was,"  said  Lia  softly.  "You  know,  he's  a 
great  swell  now." 

"No,  I  don't,"  replied  Mr.  Murray  blankly;  "I  don't 
know  anything  about  him,  except  that  he  got  well  after 
lying  in  the  hospital  for  a  good  many  weeks,  and 
probably  went  home  to  England  with  that  pretty  sister 
of  his." 

"She's  married  now,"  said  Lia. 

"How  do  you  know?"  inquired  her  father. 

"I  saw  all  about  it  in  the  papers.  I  didn't  speak  of 
it  to  you,  because — because — I  thought  if  you  were 
interested  you'd  be  sure  to  see  it,  and — say  something." 

"Great  Scott!  We've  got  more  to  do  than  read 
about  weddings,  especially  English  weddings!" 

"But  Mr.  Cameron's  sister  married  an  American, 
Mr.  Vandervoorst,  the  famous  Mr.  Vandervoorst  who 
started  the  great  daily  paper  in  London  and  Paris — 
the  one  who  gave  the  cup  for  the  automobile  race, 
where  poor  Mr.  Cameron  and  his  car  came  to  grief. 
It  was  a  grand  wedding." 

"Oh,  that  was  it,  was  it?  Well,  perhaps  I  saw  the 
account  of  the  function,  but  didn't  associate  the  bride's 
name  with  any  one  we  knew.  When  did  it  happen?" 

"Long  ago.  While  we  were  in  Italy.  And  not  long 
fter  Mr.  Cameron's  father  died.  He  was  a  clergy- 

294 


Champion 

man,  but,  all  the  same,  I  don't  think  he  could  have  been 
a  very  nice,  kind  man,  for  he  was  angry  with  his  son 
for  years  because  he  wouldn't  enter  the  church.  As 
if  one  could,  without  a  vocation.  You  didn't  know 
his  father  was  a  lord,  did  you?" 

"Not  I.     What  kind  of  a  lord?" 

"A  viscount.  That's  why  Mr.  Cameron  was  the 
Honorable  Hugh  Cameron.  But  now  he's  Lord  Dun- 
ayrtoun;  and  there  are  often  things  about  him  in  the 
papers.  He  hadn't  so  very  much  money,  it  seemed, 
even  though  he  did  come  into  his  father's  title;  but 
Mr.  Vandevoorst  and  he  went  in  together  for  making 
the  same  kind  of  automobile  that  Mr.  Cameron  in- 
vented and  ran  in  the  race.  There  were  people  who 
tried  to  steal  the  secret,  but  they  didn't  get  it;  and  Mr. 
Vandervoorst  was  now  fully  interested  in  the  car  that 
was  broken.  They've  got  works  now,  where  their 
automobiles  are  made,  and  already  they've  delivered 
a  few  to  customers,  though  it's  only  a  year  since  they 
began,  and  they're  making  a  great  success.  They're 
hurrying  up  with  one  of  a  hundred  and  twenty  horse- 
power, or  something  gigantic  like  that;  bigger,  even, 
than  the  dear  old  car  that  died." 

The  emotions  of  the  "dear  old  car  that  died,"  dur- 
ing this  recitation,  are  not  to  be  described.  It  was 
better  than  a  precious  draft  of  life-restoring  petrol  to 
hear  that  my  beloved  Master  had  come  into  his  own, 


Champion 

and  was  now  rich  and  brilliantly  successful — glorious 
to  think  of  the  bitter  mortification  his  good  fortune 
must  have  inflicted  on  our  common  enemy,  Barr-Sim- 
ons.  But  I  was  only  an  automobile;  not  a  winged 
aeroplane  of  angelic  disposition,  and  my  very  metal 
seemed  to  disintegrate  as  I  heard  how  I  had  been 
superseded. 

Hugh  had  no  longer  any  reason  to  regret  me,  since 
his  sister's  marriage  had  given  him  a  powerful  friend 
and  millionaire  partner  to  forward  all  his  schemes. 
He  had  made  other  cars  like  me — on  an  improved  pat- 
tern, perhaps;  and  one,  one  above  all  others,  grander 
than  I  had  ever  been,  a  car  which  would  win  for  him 
the  world-fame  which  I  had  tried  and  failed  to  win. 

"I  hope  the  wheels  of  this  poor  old  wreck  aren't 
falling  to  bits,"  grumbled  Mr.  Murray.  "It  seems  as 
if  the  thing  was  shaking  under  us." 

"You  imagine  it,  dear,"  said  Lia.  "I  think  it's  a 
beautifully  comfortable  car,  as  strong  as  a  rock,  and 
I  should  just  love  to  have  it  to  finish  our  tour  around 
England.  If  I  had  an  automobile  of  my  own,  I  be- 
lieve I  could  go  home  happy,  though  I  do  feel  as  if 
I  should  have  to  come  back  to  dear  England  once 
every  year  now  I've  seen  it." 

"We're  seeing  this  part  of  it  in  a  mighty  queer  way," 
chuckled  Mr.  Murray  grimly.  "Castle  Rackrent  isn't 

in  it  with  Laylor  Hall." 

296 


Champion 

"It's  an  adventure,  anyhow,"  said  Lia.  "I'm  so 
sorry  for  those  poor  old  ladies,  that  I'm  just  as  glad 
we  answered  their  wonderful  advertisement,  which 
seemed  as  if  it  would  mean  getting  into  the  very  inner 
heart  of  aristocratic  England." 

"All  the  same,  it's  a  real  take-in,"  answered  her 
father. 

"Well,  this  is  a  fine  old  place,  and  they  have  got 
priceless  furniture  and  china  and  pictures — the  two  or 
three  good  things  they  have  left." 

"And  all  the  rest  can  hardly  be  held  together  with 
glue,"  laughed  Mr.  Murray.  "I  wonder  any  of  the 
'paying  guests'  stay  over  more  than  one  meal.", 

"It's  going  to  be  all  different  for  next  season,"  said 
Lia  calmly.  "Miss  Brenton  thinks  the  five  thousand 
dollars  I've  offered  to  lend  her  will  mend  the  old 
things  and  buy  enough  new  ones — to  say  nothing  of 
pretty  chintzes  and  clean  rugs  to  make  the  advertise- 
ment quite  true — and  poor  old  Laylor  Hall  really  pop- 
ular. Now,  don't  open  your  eyes  at  me  like  that,  Dad ! 
You  promised  you'd  never  question  what  I  wanted  to 
do  with  my  own  money." 

"I'll  be  jizzled!"  murmured  Mr.  Murray  indig- 
nantly. I  did  not  know  exactly  what  he  meant;  but 
his  daughter  did  not  appear  to  be  either  shocked  or 
alarmed,  so  perhaps  it  was  nothing  very  bad. 

Of  course,  it  did  end  as  I  thought  it  would,  in  Mr. 

297 


Champion 

Murray's  buying  me.  He  haggled  in  telegrams  with 
Boyle-Smith,  who  had  just  come  back  from  London 
from  that  long  trip  at  some  one  else's  expense;  and 
at  last,  when  it  had  occurred  to  the  shrewd  old  Ameri- 
can to  break  off  negotiations,  came  a  wire  from  the 
owner  offering  me  for  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds, 
of  which  the  Miss  Brentons  were  to  have  fifty. 

The  same  mechanic  who  had  inspected  me  a  year 
ago  came  again,  and  towed  me  off  to  Southampton  be- 
hind a  puffy  little  apoplectic  motor  of  eighteen  or 
twenty  horse-power,  who  would  not  have  dared  call 
its  engine  its  own  in  my  presence  a  year  and  three  or 
four  months  ago. 

I  was  taken  to  a  combination  of  machine-shop  and 
garage  at  Southampton,  and  the  first  face  I  saw  there 
was  that  of  Franz  Krumm,  who  had  evidently  sought 
employment  and  found  it  in  this  establishment,  after 
leaving  Boyle-Smith  plante  la,  in  the  road. 

Judging  from  the  expression  of  his  lumpish  face, 
he  had  not  gained  much  in  intelligence  through  added 
experience,  but  his  dull,  blue  eyes  lit  up  with  such  a 
gleam  of  genuine  pleasure  at  sight  of  me,  that  I  could 
not  help  being  a  little  glad  to  see  him,  in  spite  of  past 
injuries.  He  had  not  liked  me  any  better  than  I  had 
liked  him,  and  had  not  even  paid  me  the  compliment 
of  trying  to  understand  me,  while  I  had  read  him 
through  and  through  at  first  glance. 


Champion 

But  petrol  is  thicker  than  water  when  you  have 
poured  it  yourself,  I  suppose,  as  well  as  when  you 
have  received  it.  The  fact  that  I  was  a  link  with  his 
past,  apparently  warmed  the  heart  of  Krumm  toward 
me — and  I  felt  much  the  same  toward  him.  He  hov- 
ered about  me  a  great  deal  during  the  repairing  and 
refreshing  process,  and  as  I  grew  handsome  and  dis- 
tinguished once  more,  under  the  hands  of  the  up- 
holsterer and  varnisher,  he  became  proud  of  his  old 
association  with  me. 

In  informing  the  management  that  he  had  driven 
me  for  a  former  owner,  he  naturally  neglected  to  add 
the  information  that  my  battered  condition  was  due 
to  him.  He  said,  and  even  demonstrated,  that  he 
understood  me  thoroughly,  which  no  one  else  did; 
and  when  Mr.  Murray  and  Lia  came  into  the  garage 
to  see  how  I  looked — they  were  both  astounded  by 
my  renewed  magnificence,  and  Lia  said,  "I  told  you 
so!" — he  begged  to  be  engaged  as  their  chauffeur. 

With  them  he  had  to  be  more  frank  than  he  had 
been  with  his  employer,  but  he  said  that  he  had  been 
half-starved  by  Mr.  Boyle- Smith,  who  grudged  me 
decent  oil  and  petrol.  It  pleased  Lia  that  he  could 
explain  the  mystery  of  the  crown  upon  my  glittering 
panels — a  real  live  Prince  and  Princess  had  owned 
me,  then! — and  when  Krumm  hinted  that  not  only 

was  he  the  one  man  in  England  who  knew  me  as  I 

299 


Champion 

should  be  known,  but  that  he  had  an  aged  mother 
and  five  sisters  in  Germany  depending  upon  his  ex- 
ertions, Lia  induced  her  father  to  engage  him  at  once. 

By  this  time,  the  Murrays  had  been  staying  for  a 
fortnight  at  Laylor  Hall,  and  were  evidently,  in  spite 
of  their  compassion  for  the  Brentons,  glad  to  get  away. 

We  started  forth  the  day  after  my  varnish  was  pro- 
nounced dry;  and  though  Krumm  was  as  stupid  and 
dreamy  as  ever,  his  wages  were  now  so  good  that  he 
did  indulge  me  with  oil  free  from  grit.  Thankful 
for  this  boon,  and  rejoicing  beyond  power  of  petrol 
to  express  in  my  cleanliness,  my  freedom  from  rust 
as  well  as  dust,  my  blessed  liberty,  and  the  sheer  de- 
light of  motion  after  long  inaction,  I  found  myself 
able  to  run  surprisingly  well  for  my  bungling 
chauffeur. 

As  for  Lia,  she  was  in  the  seventh  heaven  as  the 
proud  possessor  of  an  automobile  of  her  own,  and  such 
a  fine  one.  Even  her  father  confessed  that  I  was  a 
wonderful  bargain  at  the  price ;  and  the  two  discussed 
taking  me  over  to  America  with  them  when  they  went 
"home." 

Their  talk  of  leaving  England,  however,  was  like 
annihilation  to  me,  for  each  day  now,  I  hoped  against 
hope  that  we  might  run  across  my  dear  Master. 
Though  he  would  not  recognize  me;  though  he  had 

other  favorites  now,  I  thought  I  could  rust  out  con- 

300 


Champion 

tentedly  in  the  end,  if  I  could  but  see  him  just  once 
more  before  I  was  transported  from  English  shores 
for  ever. 

The  father  and  daughter  had  already  lingered,  how- 
ever, much  longer  than  they  had  originally  intended. 
They  had  "done"  Ireland  and  Scotland,  as  ordinary 
tourists,  traveling  by  train,  and  would  have  finished 
their  visit  to  England  in  the  same  dull  way,  had  they 
not  been  seduced  by  the  Miss  Brentons'  advertisement, 
and  thus  chanced  upon  me. 

Weather  favored  us,  for  it  was  late  in  the  month 
of  July;  and  day  after  day  we  ran  about,  through  the 
middle  counties  of  England,  then  south  to  Devon  and 
Cornwall. 

Never,  for  an  instant,  did  I  relax  my  vigilance,  star- 
ing ahead,  flashing  glances  down  side  roads,  even 
when  dust  was  so  thick  that  my  lamps  were  blurred, 
or  rain  fell  so  heavily  that  they  flickered  under  a 
bulletlike  hail  of  drops.  Always  I  was  searching  for 
my  Master;  always  I  made  my  engine  work  to  the  air 
of  that  "March  of  the  Cameron  Men,"  which,  whistled 
by  Hugh,  had  been  one  of  the  first  sounds  I  had  ever 
heard.  "If  he  should  pass,  and  catch  the  thrum  of  it, 
he  might  pause  and  suspect  the  truth,"  I  would  assure 
myself  at  night,  lying  in  some  new  garage. 

"Will  ye  no  come  back  again?"  my  motor  would 

ask,  in  the  beautiful  old  tune  I  had  learned  from  his 

301 


Champion 

lips;  yet  he  did  not  come;  and  in  a  fortnight  more  I 
was  to  be  shipped  to  New  York. 

One  hot,  dusty  day,  however,  I  was  so  dispirited 
that  I  had  not  energy  to  beat  out  the  "March  of  the 
Cameron  Men."  The  fact  was,  I  was  going  on  very 
little  petrol,  but  Krumm  intended  to  get  me  through  to 
the  village  where  we  would  put  up  for  the  night,  with- 
out stopping  to  buy  more.  I  could  do  it,  I  knew,  but 
I  was  thirsty  and  cross,  and  felt  very  slack.  Almost 
I  could  have  gone  to  sleep  as  I  ran,  and  indeed,  I  was 
half-dreaming  of  a  nice,  cool  garage,  like  the  one 
where  my  Master  had  kept  me  in  Paris  on  the  way  to 
the  race — my  good  dreams  were  always  of  the  old 
days — when  out  from  the  cloud  of  white  dust  far 
ahead,  down  the  straight,  level  road,  I  saw  emerge — 
myself ! 

Yes,  it  was  true,  and  no  waking  dream.  Myself 
as  I  once  had  been,  was  coming  to  meet — myself,  as  I 
was  now — coming  faster,  faster,  and  near.  Soon  we 
should  have  passed  one  another  as  ships  pass  in  the 
dark,  and  all  would  be  over. 

It  was  only  for  half  a  second  that  I  was  dazed,  not 
knowing  what  to  make  of  the  vision.  Then,  in  an 
electric  flash,  I  realized  the  truth.  One  of  my  Mas- 
ter's cars  was  approaching — the  grand  champion — 
making  a  trial  trip,  perhaps — and  who  was  likely  to 

be  at  the  helm  if  not  my  Master  himself? 

302 


Champion 

Two  men  were  in  the  car,  both  masked  and  goggled. 
He  who  was  driving  slowed  down  a  little  as  in  duty 
bound,  at  signs  of  a  car  ahead;  still,  his  speed  was 
great;  there  was  but  a  second  to  think. 

It  was  my  Master.  I  knew  him,  in  spite  of  his  mask 
and  the  cap  pulled  low  over  the  forehead.  I  knew 
him  afar  off,  and  would  have  known  him,  I  think,  had 
it  been  darkest  midnight  instead  of  blinding  noon. 

He  would  go  on,  and  not  know  me.  This  chance — 
for  which  I  had  longed  and  lived  since  the  day  we 
lost  each  other — might  never  come  again.  What 
should  I  do? 

With  a  violent  effort  I  gulped  away  the  last  drop  of 
my  petrol  which  might,  with  economy,  have  lasted  an- 
other half-hour.  Sighing,  I  stopped  dead,  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  road,  just  as  Krumm  was  in  the  act  of  turn- 
ing out  for  the  big  racing-car. 

Quickly,  my  Master  put  on  his  brakes,  or  he  would 
have  run  me  down — for  I  had  taken  that  risk,  even 
with  the  thought  of  Lia  in  my  cylinders;  I  knew  so 
well  what  Hugh  could  do  in  an  emergency. 

She  had  not  seen  him  yet,  nor  he  her.  She  wore  a 
kind  of  hood  of  gray  silk,  which  covered  her  face  as 
well  as  her  head,  and  had  a  talc  window  over  the  eyes. 
This  made  her  unrecognizable,  and  as  we  were  leav- 
ing some  very  fine  scenery  behind,  she  and  her  father 
had  lately  changed  over  to  sit  with  their  backs  to  the 

303 


Champion 

motor,  so  that  they  might  have  the  last  glimpse  of  the 
sea  and  the  downs. 

My  sudden  stop,  however,  and  the  whiz  of  an  ap- 
proaching car  of  high  power,  caused  father  and  daugh- 
ter to  turn  hastily  round;  and,  though  Mr.  Murray 
cared  too  little  for  automobiles  to  know  one  sort  from 
another,  Lia  instantly  recognized  the  new  car  as  the 
image  of  my  old  self. 

My  Master,  chivalrous  as  always,  had  stopped  dead, 
believing  me  to  be  en  panne,  and  wishing  to  ask  if 
assistance  were  needed.  He  already  had  his  cap  off 
and  his  lips  apart  for  the  question,  when  Lia  ex- 
claimed: "Why,  it's  Champion  over  again!" 

With  that,  off  came  my  Master's  mask,  and  my  cyl- 
inders almost  cracked  in  the  wild,  mad  ecstasy  of  see- 
ing him  again. 

"Is  that  Miss  Murray's  voice?"  he  asked,  and  Lia 
began  to  untie  the  ribbons  of  her  silk  hood,  while  Mr. 
Murray  pulled  his  goggles  solemnly  down  over  his 
nose,  to  peer  over  them. 

"Mr.  Cameron!"  the  girl  and  her  father  both  ex- 
claimed; but  instantly  Lia  remembered  all  those  bits 
of  information  she  had  picked  up  from  the  papers,  and 
amended:  "I  mean,  Lord  Dunayrtoun." 

Now,  my  Master  had  jumped  down  from  his  place 
in  the  magnificent  new  racer,  which  I  had  to  admit  was 
a  flattered  likeness  of  my  old  self,  and  without  taking 

304 


Champion 

the  slightest  notice  of  me,  was  shaking  hands  with  Lia 
and  Mr.  Murray. 

"If  you  only  knew  how  glad  I  am  to  find  you 
again!"  he  exclaimed  heartily,  his  voice,  which  I  had 
loved,  nicer  than  ever.  "I've  searched  everywhere,  in- 
quired of  every  one,  tried  every  way  I  could  think  of 
to  get  at  you,  even — even  one  way  of  which  I'm  rather 
ashamed.  But  I  was  driven  to  it  by  desperation:  I 
put  a  'personal'  in  my  brother-in-law's  paper,  English 
and  Continental  editions,  which  nearly  everybody 
seems  to  see." 

"We  contrived  to  miss  it,"  said  Lia,  whose  cheeks 
were  very  pink.  "Do  tell  us  what  it  said." 

"Oh — nothing  much.  Only  I  begged  that  Mr.  Mur- 
ray— I  put  initials,  of  course,  not  names,  and  hinted 
at  the  circumstances — that  Mr.  Murray  could  let  me 
know  where  you  were.  I  felt  we  were  friends,  you 
know,  and  I  couldn't  bear  to  lose  you." 

"We  waited,  quite  near,  until  you  were  out  of  dan- 
ger. Then  we  went  away ;  for  you  had  your  sister  and 
other  friends,  and  we  didn't  know  you  long  enough  to 
intrude,"  explained  Lia.  "We  were  awfully  grieved 
about — about  the  race,  and  everything.  I  was  sure 
always  it  was  treachery.  I  was  so  glad  when  I  saw 
in  the  papers  that  you  and  Mr.  Vandervoorst  were  ma- 
king more  of  the  same  kind  of  cars,  and  succeeding 
so  splendidly." 

305 


Champion 


"You  knew  all  about  me,  and  never  wrote?" 

"I — we — thought  you'd  have  forgotten,"  stammered 
Lia  shyly. 

He  looked  at  her  without  answering.  And  she 
must  have  seen  what  I  saw — that  he  loved  her  and 
had  been  longing  for  her,  since  she  had  been  lost. 
But  this  time  she  grew  pale,  instead  of  pink.  I  felt 
the  trembling  of  her  slim  body,  and  the  tightening  of 
her  little  fingers  as  they  nervously  grasped  the  back 
of  the  seat.  Then,  she  hurried  to  speak  again,  and 
change  the  subject.  "I  don't  know  what  has  hap- 
pened to  us!"  she  laughed.  "It's  just  as  if  our  car 
had  stopped  on  purpose  to  say  'how  do  you  do'  to  you." 

(Little  did  she  guess  how  near  she  was  to  the 
truth!) 

For  the  first  time  my  Master  glanced  at  me  with 
observant  eyes. 

"We  stopped — my  chauffeur  and  I" — he  exclaimed, 
"to  ask  if  we  could  do  anything,  thinking  we  were  of- 
fering aid  to  strangers.  What  luck — what  wonderful 
luck!  that  it  should  be  you  and  Mr.  Murray.  So  you 
are  regular  motorists  now." 

"My  daughter  would  buy  this  automobile  second- 
hand; and  it  does  seem  as  if  we  hadn't  made  a  bad 
bargain,"  answered  Mr.  Murray.  "We  had  it  for 
about  a  month,  and  this  is  the  first  time  I've  known 
it  to  go  wrong." 

306 


Champion 

"I  took  a  fancy  to  the  car,  because  the  wheels  are 
like  your  first,  dear  old  Champion,  after  which  I  hear 
you've  named  all  the  others.  By  the  way,  what  be- 
came of  it?  I  suppose,  broken  as  it  was,  you  kept  it, 
and  value  it  still?" 

My  Master's  handsome  face  changed  and  darkened. 
I  listened  with  all  my  valves  for  what  he  would  say 
next.  The  whole  worth  of  life  depended  on  his  words 
about  me. 

"Value  it?"  he  echoed.  "I  have  only  a  memory  to 
value,  but  that's  more  to  me  than  any  real  car  we've 
ever  made  or  shall  make.  Champion  fell  into  an  en- 
emy's hands,  Miss  Murray,  and  was  burnt  in  his 
garage,  whether  through  malice  or  not,  who  knows? 
One  can  only  suspect.  But  I  regret  that  first  love  of 
mine  as  if,  in  losing  it,  I'd  lost  my  right  hand.  And  I 
believe  I'd  have  given  my  right  hand  to  keep  that  car. 
It  was  like  finding  I  had  lost  part  of  myself  when  I 
woke  up  to  consciousness  and  learned  that  Champion 
had  been  destroyed." 

"I — didn't  know  it  had  been  burned,"  said  Lia,  her 
voice  a  little  unsteady,  in  her  sympathy  with  Hugh. 
"I  hoped  you  had  got  the  car  again." 

"No.  And  nothing  can  ever  make  up  to  me  for  its 
loss,"  my  Master  answered.  "Unless — one  thing." 

"What  thing?"  questioned  Lia. 

"A  thing  I  don't  suppose  I  dare  hope  for." 

307 


Champion 

"Winning  another  race?" 

"No.  Not  a  race.  Perhaps  I'll  tell  you  some  time 
— if  you're  really  interested.  For  now  that  I've  found 
you  I  don't  mean  to  let  you  go — you  and  Mr.  Mur- 
ray, of  course." 

Lia  laughed  a  sweet  little,  nervous  laugh.  "Well," 
she  said,  for  the  sake  of  saying  something  quickly,  "I 
don't  see  any  signs  just  at  present  that  we  shall  ever 
go  anywhere." 

"That  reminds  me  that  I  must  help  your  chauffeur," 
exclaimed  Hugh.  "He  doesn't  seem  to  have  found  out 
yet  what's  the  matter."  And  he  glanced  at  Krumm, 
who  was  looking  at  me  stupidly  under  the  bonnet. 

So  absorbed  had  he  been  in  the  girl,  that  so  far 
Hugh's  eyes  had  not  traveled  much  farther  than  the 
crowns  on  my  panels,  but  now  they  suddenly  fell 
upon  the  wheels  of  which  Lia  had  spoken.  Startled, 
he  bent  down  and  stared  at  them.  When  he  rose, 
though  he  said  nothing,  his  eyes  were  dilated,  and 
there  was  an  odd,  tight  look  about  his  lips. 

"Will  you  let  me  have  a  glance  at  the  motor?"  he 
asked  quietly  of  Krumm. 

The  chauffeur  stood  aside ;  and  once  more  my  metal 
thrilled  under  the  touch  of  the  hands  I  had  loved  and 
lost — the  hands  that  had  fashioned  me. 

Hugh's  eyes  saw  me,  and  in  an  instant  were  con- 
vinced. In  spite  of  himself,  he  uttered  a  faint  cry. 

308 


Champion 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Lia  quickly. 

"Nothing  much,"  he  said,  in  a  choked  voice.  How 
could  he  claim  me  now  when  I  was  her  car,  bought 
with  her  father's  money.  But  he  knew  me,  I  was  sure 
of  that  now — knew  me  for  his  own.  And  I  was  no 
longer  jealous  of  the  new  Champions,  not  even  the 
giant  racer,  for — even  if  I  were  not  to  belong  to  him 
again — had  he  not  said  no  other  car  could  be  to  him 
what  I  was? 

"Is  the  motor  badly  injured?"  Lia  went  on. 

"No,  not  at  all,"  he  replied  almost  mechanically. 

She  jumped  down  from  the  tonneau,  where  she  had 
been  sitting,  and  came  to  his  side. 

"You're  looking  at  that  queer  little  Greek  word 
on  the  motor!"  she  cried.  "I've  often  noticed  it.  I 
call  it  the  car's  birthmark." 

"So  it  is,"  said  Hugh. 

"You  must  tell  me  what  it  is.  Why,  you — you — 
recognize  it.  Oh,  I  must  know,  now.  Can  it  be " 

"It's  Champion,"  Hugh  told  her,  the  answer  dragged 
from  him.  "I  knew  the  motor  instantly,  of  course, 
and  that's  his  name  in  Greek,  which  I  scratched  there 
the  day  before  the  motor  was  mounted  on  the  chassis. 
My  blessed  old  Champion,  he  wasn't  burnt  up,  after 
all,  in  that  beast's  garage.  Some  one  must  have  trans- 
formed him,  for  who  knows  what  purpose,  but  here 
he  is." 

309 


Champion 

"It's  Fate,"  exclaimed  Lia.  "Fate  took  us  to  the 
right  place  to  find  him,  and  made  us  buy  him — to  give 
him  back  to  you  again.  For,  of  course,  we'll  do  that, 
won't  we,  Dad?" 

"Of  course,"  said  Mr.  Murray. 

"Of  course  not;  he's  yours  now,  and  I'm  delighted 
that  he  should  be  yours,"  Hugh  protested,  his  hand 
laid  lovingly  on  my  birthmark. 


But  that  evening,  after  dusk,  in  the  deserted  make- 
shift garage  of  the  village  inn,  where  they  all  put  up 
for  the  night — because  naturally  Hugh  turned  round, 
and  went  with  the  Murrays — he  and  Lia  sat  together 
on  my  front  seat,  while  the  moon  came  up  over  the 
trees  and  peered  at  them  and  me.  He  told  her  what 
it  was  he  wanted  to  win,  and  she  told  him  that  it  was 
already  won.  So  there  was  no  longer  any  question  as 
to  which  should  be  my  owner.  I  belonged  to  them 
both,  and  when  they  had  decided  their  own  future 
they  decided  mine.  I  was  to  be  remade  in  my  old 
form,  and  be  again  the  Champion  I  had  been. 

"I've  made  nothing  to  touch  him,"  said  my  Master 
again,  "and  he  and  I  will  win  a  race  together  yet." 

THE   END. 


310 


WHAT  THE  REVIEWERS  SAID 

About  the  Novel 

THE  LION  AND  THE  MOUSE 

Novelized  from  Charles  Klein's  great  play 
By  ARTHUR  HORNBLOW 


"  Mr.  Hornblow  has  done  his  work  with  creditable 
aptitude.  He  is  successful  where  success  is  most 
important — in  keeping  up  the  reader's  suspense,  in 
working  effectively  toward  the  climax.  The  book 


"  Mr.  Hornblow  has  made  his  novelization  of  an 
enormously  successful  play  in  a  workmanlike  man- 
ner. The  story,  like  the  play,  belongs  to  -this  very 
minute.  It  is  full  of  a  spirit  and  a  feeling  that  are 


"  Undoubtedly  the  book  of  the  hour.  Both  the 
novel  and  the  play  appeal  to  the  widest  possible 
American  public.  The  novelist  gives  more  of  the 
interesting  story  and  has  enhanced  the  virility  and 


"  *  The  Lion  and  the  Mouse,'  as  a  novel,  more 
than  maintains  the  reputation  of  its  author  as  a  clean* 
cut  exposition  of  throbbing  American  life  by  a  real 
novelist.  Mr.  Hornblow  knows  his  subject  and  has 


"Will  become  the  most  talked-of  book  of  the 
year.  .  .  .  As  exciting  and  fascinating  a  narrative 
as  has  appeared  in  novel  form  in  years." 

"  Mr.  Hornblow's  book  is  written  in  distinguished 
English ;  its  chapters  are  chiselled  to  exact  propor- 
tions ;  its  story  is  clear  and  limpid  ;  particularly  are 
its  characters  cleverly  vivid,  and  with  few  exceptions 
tell  themselves  in  the  dialogue  more  plainly  than  they  could  with  ever 
so  much  extrinsic  aid  of  psychic  and  physical  description.  The  Ameri- 
can nation  is  indebted  to  him.  He  has  clothed  with  the  vibrant  palpi- 
tating flesh  of  life-interest  the  greatest  economic  problem  and  evil  of  the 
day.  It  is  a  book  to  make  the  multitude  think." 


WHAT  THE  CRITICS  SAT  OF 

A  SPECKLED  BIRD 

By  AUGUSTA  EVANS  WILSON 


"  Mrs.  Wilson  is  not  a  novelist  that  writes  hastily.  It  is 
years  since  she  gave  her  last  book,  '  At  the  Mercy  of  Tiberius,'  to  the 
world,  and  now  she  comes  '  to  those  kind  readers,  known  and  unknown, 
who  have  desired  her  to  write  again,'  with  a  story  as  vigorous,  as  pas- 
sionate and  as  compelling  in  its  interest  as  any  that  has  ever  proceeded 
from  her  pen." — Charleston  News  and  Courier. 

"  There  is  a  tragic  under  current  in  it  all,  like  a  Maeterlinck  theme, 
a  passionate  note  of  sorrow,  a  story  of  intense  dramatic  interest  that 
never  loosens  its  hold  upon  the  reader  for  a  moment,  while  it  ends 
happily. " — Birmingham  Age-Herald, 

"  This  new  romance  will  possess  for  us  a  charm  not  unlike  that 
which  we  would  feel  if  Sir  Walter  Scott  could  in  some  way  dictate 
another  romance  through  some  occult  medium  and  give  it  to  the  world. 
'  A  Speckled  Bird '  is  an  absorbing  romance  well  worthy  of  this  de- 
lightful Southern  writer." — Memphis  Commercial  Appeal. 

"  Her  style  is  easy  and  her  imagination  never  falters.  It  cannot  be 
denied  that  her  school  is  an  ethical  force,  for  by  it  a  great  circle  receives 
fiction  which  ever  teaches  the  triumph  of  righteousness  and  the  ruin  of 
wrong." — Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 

"  There  is  not  one  perfunctory  word  in  it.  Mrs.  Wilson's  view  of 
life  and  her  attitude  toward  her  characters  are  never  blase.  She  ex- 
hibits extreme  solicitude  about  the  destiny  of  her  men  and  women,  and 
by  that  unfeigned  interest  she  succeeds  in  compelling  interest  on  the 
part  of  her  reader  hardly  second  to  her  own." — Chicago  Daily  Tribune. 

"It  is  a  piece  of  work  far  better  than  many  of  the  '  best  selling 
novels'  of  recent  seasons.  Mrs.  Wilson  proves  that  she  is  a  vigorous 
and  able  veteran  of  letters,  and  it  will  be  welcomed  by  all  the  quondam 
admirers  of  '  St.  Elmo.'  They  are  legion." 

— ELEANOR  M.  HOYT,  in  The  Book  Buyer. 

"  Far  above  the  average  work  of  fiction." — Louisville  Courier- Journal. 
"  How  absolutely  sweet  and  clean  and  wholesome  is  the  atmosphere 
of  the  story !  It  could  not  be  anything  else  and  come  from  her  pen." 

— Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  We  like  the  stately,  old-fashioned  way,  with  honest  intensities,  and 
we  have  read  with  pleasure  and  admiration  '  A  Speckled  Bird,'  by 
Augusta  Evans  Wilson.  Augusta  Evans — a  strong  and  a  known  name, 
in  sound  and  in  memory  significant  of  power." — N.  Y.  Sun. 


Hundreds  of  testimonials  pronounce  it  as  standing  in 
the  highest  rank  of  modern  fiction* 


What  Critics  Say  of 

"THE  BLACK  MOTOR  CAR" 

By  HARRIS  BURLAND 


"Anger,  malice,  and  all  uncharitableness  figure  largely  in  this 
sensational  novel,  set  to  a  modern  keynote,  that  of  a  motor  car.  An 
embezzler  entered  prison,  a  man  who  had  lost  his  honor,  but  retained 
many  good  traits.  After  fourteen  years  he  emerged  a  ravening  beast, 
and  began  to  take  his  revenge  on  the  world." — The  Outlook. 

"A  melodramatic  story  of  the  intense  and  lurid  kind,  with  not 
much  motoring  in  it  until  the  last  chapter,  which  is  given  to  a  thrilling 
description  of  a  night  ride  for  life,  ending  in  tragedy." 

— Philadelphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

"  There  is  something  fascinating  before  opening  the  book  to  glance 
at  the  outside  cover  and  absorb  the  meaning  of  a  striking  picture  of  a 
gleaming  auto  with  its  eyes  of  fire  generated  through  headlights,  while 
on  the  driver's  seat  sits  a  black-bearded  man  with  a  sinister  aspect  that 
at  once  suggests  action.  The  story  develops  in  aristocratic  England,  and 
there  is  plenty  of  coloring  and  rapid-fire  action." — Portland  Oregonian. 

"There  is  a 'go'  in  Harris  Burland's  novel  'The  Black  Motor 
Car'  as  well  as  in  the  car  itself.  There  are  'things  doing'  in  every 
chapter. " — Cleveland  Plaindealer. 

' '  The  author  manages  to  keep  one's  interest  at  fever  height  until 
the  very  last  line.  It  is  a  rapid  transit  romance  with  a  vengeance." 

—Philadelphia  Item. 

"  In  the  way  of  exciting  fiction  there  could  be  nothing  more  dis- 
creetly sensational  than  this  story.  It  fairly  bristles  with  wonderful 
incidents  in  which  a  woman  who  has  betrayed  a  lover,  dishonest  for  her 
sake,  is  pursued  relentlessly  by  her  victim.  Those  who  like  their  fiction 
well  spiced  with  stirring  and  surprising  incident  will  appreciate  this 
remarkable  story." — Boston  Budget  and  Beacon. 

"  Excitement,  mystery  and  horror  in  every  chapter,  sensational 
developments  following  each  other  in  rapid  succession,  make  up  a  story 
that  will  delight  anyone  who  loves  exciting  literature.  The  plot  is  a 
cross  work  of  various  interests  and  the  story  is  well  written.  The 
interest  is^sustained  to  the  last." — Louisville  Courier-Journal. 

"  We  would  not  like  to  say  how  many  automobile  stories  are  now  in 
course  of  construction,  but  it  is  safe  to  give  the  opinion  that  not  one 
will  be  more  hair-raising  than  Mr.  Burland's  book." — Rochester  Herald. 

"  Highly  sensational,  with  a  plot  full  of  surprises  and  crammed 
with  excitement  from  start  to  finish,  the  book  may  be  recommended  to 
those  who  like  a  story  which  travels  at  a  whirling  pace." 

— Boston  Herald. 

"  Suspense  and  horror  compel  the  reading  of  this  story  to  the  very 
last  word.  The  events  related  are  of  so  novel  and  exciting  a  character 
and  follow  each  other  with  such  rapidity  that  when  the  final  climax  is 
reached  the  reader  feels  as  if  he,  too,  had  been  whirled  along  in  the  mad 
flight  of  the  terrible  car  with  its  fierce  and  gloomy  owner." 

—  Utica  Observer. 
120*0,  5  j£  x  7j£  inches,  339  pages,  cloth  bound,  illustrated.     $1.50. 

G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CO.,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


What  Critics  Say  of 

"THE  RECORDS" 

By  CYRUS  TO WSEND  BRADY 


"  The  popularity  of  Dr.  Brady's  writings  is  in  many  respects  well 
deserved.  His  narrative  does  not  drag,  his  style  is  clear,  nothing  is 
wasted  on  ornament,  his  ideas  are  sharply  defined  and  his  incidents  have 
a  human  interest  that  compels  attention." — Baltimore  Sun. 

"  Narrated  with  grace  and  facility.  There  is  no  attempt  at  morali- 
zation,  no  probing  of  problems  psychic  or  psychological.  It  is  a 
volume  of  plain  tales  for  every-day  readers,  told  in  a  plain  and  every-day 
style." — The  Literary  Digest. 

"  No  more  careful  work  is  discoverable  in  Dr.  Brady's  writings 
anywhere.  '  The  Levite,'  one  of  the  Records,  would  alone  justify  the 
publication  of  this  volume.  One  is  forcibly  reminded  of  Charles  Reade's 
exclamation  against  '  prurient  prudery '  in  realizing  that  such  a  story 
could  not  find  a  place  in  any  of  the  leading  magazines  of  the  country. 
These  '  records '  have  humor,  pathos  and  dramatic  action,  and  each  of 
them  is  well  rounded  and  not  merely  episodical." — Philadelphia  Press. 

"Like  the  escaped  prisoner  from  the  Chateau  d'lf,  this  author's  fancy 
ranges  free — the  world  is  his  from  which  to  call  such  blossoms  as  he 
will.  He  has  the  art  of  the  story-teller,  in  no  ordinary  degree  of 
development,  withal,  and  can  spin  an  attractive  yarn  from  slender 
or  unpromising  materials  as  easily  as  a  motor  car  spins  along  the 
highway." — Philadelphia  North  American. 

"The  book  exemplifies  the  saw  about  the  superior  strangeness  of 
truth.  All  the  incidents  are  exciting  and  they  reveal  many  phases  of 
life  and  many  sides  of  character." — The  Cleveland  Leader. 

"So  well  and  so  favorably  is  this  author  known  in  every  home 
throughout  the  whole  world  by  his  numerous  meritorious  works  that 
it  is  only  necessary  to  disclose  the  fact  of  his  having  written  a  new 
book  to  be  assured  of  its  instantaneous  popularity  and  wide,  ever- 
increasing  distribution." — New  York  American. 

"His  characters  are  clearly  outlined,  and  in  putting  them  through 
their  paces  the  author  writes  with  capital  spirits.  His  episodes  are 
sufficiently  striking  and  he  states  them  briefly.  The  book  is  clever  and 
entertaining." — New  York  Tribune. 

"Advise  you  to  read  'The  Records.'  In  fact,  advise  you  to  read 
anything  of  Brady's  that  comes  your  way.  It's  good  meat  with  a 
gristle  to  it,  and  when  you  buy  a  book  you  want  something  more  than 
paper  to  chew  on." — The  Brooklyn  Eagle. 

Fourteen  Full  Page  Illustrations  by  Louis  D.   Arata. 
12*10,5%  x  7>£  inches,  321  pages,  cloth  bound,  $1.30. 

G.  W.  DUXINGHAM  CO.,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


Mighty  High  Praise  of 

"REAL    BOYS" 

A  Book  about  Real  Boys  to  carry  old  Boys  back  to  Boyhood  days. 


"  This  morning  I'm  feeling  '  pert  and  sassy,'  because  I  have  just 
finished  Judge  Shute's  '  Real  Boys.'  And  they  are  real  boys.  I  know 
'em  and  played  with  'em,  even  if  they  have  different  names.  You  will 
say  the  same  thing  too,  and  find  boyish  counterparts  for  Plupy  and 
Pewt,  Skinny — all  the  long  roll,  in  fact.  What  they  did,  too,  will  be 
paralleled  in  our  own  experiences  and  remembrances.  It's  a  book  to  read 
and  laugh  at  and  sigh  over  now,  and  to  dip  into  for  a  Ponce  de  Leon 
literary  rejuvenation  every  time  you  feel  particularly  old." 

— LITERARY  EDITOR,  The  Cleveland  Leader. 

"Any  one  who  has  ever  been  a  real  boy,  and  wants  to  renew  his 
youth,  or  any  one  who  has  never  been  a  real  boy  and  wants  to  imagine 
how  it  feels,  had  better  read  Henry  Shute's  book  of  reminiscences  of 
'Real  Boys.'" — Philadelphia  Evening  Telegraph. 

"  It  describes  boy  life,  presented  from  a  man's  point  of  view.  It 
was  back  in  the  sixties  when  these  '  real  boys '  flourished,  '  in  the  good 
old  days  when  men  of  substance  wore  black  broadcloth  frock  coats  of 
wondrous  sheen  and  velvety  softness,  and  light,  almost  white,  trousers, 
which  hung  in  folds  about  their  manly  legs.  When  lofty  and  ofttimes 
shiny  domes  of  thought  were  surmounted  by  tall  beaver  plugs  of  great 
price,  while  their  feet  were  brave  in  closely  fitting  calfskin  boots,  which 
were  always  kept  in  the  highest  state  of  polish.'  It  is  animated  with  a 
keen  sense  of  humor  and  still  further  enlivened  with  the  touch  of  human 
nature  which  make  these  pictures  of  boyhood  complete." — Toledo  Blade. 

"  *  Real  Boys '  evidently  was  written  by  Judge  Henry  A.  Shute  for  the 
delectation  of  old  boys  who  were  once  real  boys,  and  that  they  will  thor- 
oughly enjoy  it  we  are  convinced,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  it  describes 
New  Hampshire  boys  in  particular.  Their  traits  are  much  the  same 
everywhere." — The  Rochester  Herald. 

"As  amusing  as  its  predecessors,  '  The  Diary  of  a  Real  Boy'  and 
4  Sequil.'  It  is  a  delightful  volume.  It  will  please  all  ages  and  all 
tastes.  It  would  be  difficult  to  read  it  without  smiling  and  sighing, 
while  the  one  pathetic  chapter  will  cause  many  an  eye  to  moisten." 

— Chicago  Record-Herald. 

"  There  is  something  essentially  human  in  every  page  of  the  book, 
and  readers  of  all  ages  will  be  carried  back  to  boyhood  days,  and  find 
delight,  not  only  in  the  pranks  of  these  wholesome  youths,  but  in  the 
habits,  dress  and  customs  which  the  author  describes  so  faithfully." 

—  The  Boston  Herald. 

Full  of  that  little  touch  of  nature  that  '  makes  the  whole  world 
kin.'  "—  Worcester  Gazette. 

Embellished  with  nearly  40  illustrations  by  F.  R.  Gruger.    $1.25. 

G.  W.  DILLDMGHAM  CO.,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


What  the  Critics  say  of 

Chip   of   the    Flying   U. 


By  B.  M.  BOWER. 


" '  Chip '  is  all  right.     Better  than  '  The  Virginian.' " 

— Brooklyn  Eagle. 

"  The  name  of  B.  M.  Bower  will  stand  for  something  readable  in 
the  estimation  of  every  man,  and  most  every  woman,  who  reads  this  fine 
new  story  of  Montana  ranch  and  its  dwellers." — Publisher  &*  Retailer. 

"  Its  qualities  and  merit  can  be  summed  up  in  the  brief  but  suffi- 
cient statement  that  it  is  thoroughly  delightful." 

— Albany  Times-Union. 

"  For  strength  of  interest,  vivid  description,  clever  and  convincing 
character,  drawing  and  literary  merit  it  is  the  surprise  of  the  year." 

—  Walderis  Stationer  and  Printer. 

"It  is  an  appealing  story  told  in  an  active  style  which  fairly 
sparkles  in  reproducing  the  atmosphere  of  the  wild  and  woolly  West.  It 
is  consistently  forceful  and  contains  a  quantity  of  refreshing  comedy." 

— Philadelphia  Prest. 
"  Bound  to  stand  among  the  famous  novels  of  the  year." 

— Baltimore  American. 

"  '  The  Virginian'  has  found  many  imitators,  but  few  authors  have 
come  as  near  duplicating  Owen  Wister's  magnetic  hero  as  has  B.  M. 
Bower,  '  Chip  of  the  Flying  U.'  " — Philadelphia  Item. 

"B.  M.  Bower  has  portrayed  but  few  characters,  but  these  he  has 
pictured  with  the  strong  and  yet  delicate  stroke  of  a  true  master.  The 
atmosphere  of  the  West  is  perfect ;  one  sees  and  feels  the  vibrant,  vital 
life  of  the  ranch  activities  all  through  the  telling  of  the  story." 

— Cincinnati  Times-Star. 

"  It  brims  over  with  humor  showing  the  bright  and  laughing  side  of 
ranch  life.  It  is  a  story  which  will  delightfully  entertain  the  reader." 

— Portia  nd  Journal. 

"  The  story  contains  strength  of  interest,  vivid  descriptions,  clever 
and  convincing  character  drawing  and  literary  merits,  and  the  author  lays 
on  the  colors  with  a  master's  touch." — Albany  Evening  Journal. 

I2mo,  Cloth  Bound,  Color  ttlustrations,  $135 

G.  W.  DELLINGHAM  OX,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


WHAT  CRITICS  SAY  OK 

Three  Daughters  of  the  Confederacy 

BY  CYRUS  TOWNSEND  BRADY. 


rt  Will  doubtless  take  a  high  rank  among  his  other  brilliant  productions." 

— Savannah  News. 

"Contains  some  excellent  descriptions  of  battle,  and  there  are  stirring  incidents 
not  a  few  to  fire  the  reader's  blood."— Newark  Evening  News. 

"  Will  add  to  his  reputation  as  a  writer  of  delightful  romance/1 — Bookseller^ 
Newsdealer  and  Stationer. 

"  The  pages  are  illuminated  here  and  there  by  telling  bits  of  personal  descrip- 
tion of  such  men  as  Lincoln,  Grant,  Sheridan,  Lee,  Jackson,  and  the  whole  book  is 
pervaded  by  a  delightful  and  refreshing  humor. "—New  Orleans  Picayune. 

"Is  breezily  told— with  a  deal  of  salt  in  the  breeze— with  characteristic 
Bradyesqueness." — St.  Louis  Republic. 

"  Mr.  Brady  has  given  more  of  his  attention  to  the  love  making  of  his  charac- 
ters, 'and  the  intrigue  of  war,  than  to  his  horrors  and  gruesome  details.  Mr. 
Brady's  book  Is  not  the  less  desirable  because  it  is  written  in  lighter  vein,  smelling 
rather  of  the  orange  blossom  than  of  gunpowder." — Seattle  Past-Intelligencer. 

"  Dr.  Brady's  history  is  true,  his  military  and  naval  tactics  official,  and  his 
incidents  and  characters  full  of  entertainment." — Cleveland  Leader. 

"  In  his  new  book  he  tells  three  separate  and  distinct  stories,  and  you  will  not 
only  wish  there  was  more  to  each,  but  you  will  probably  take  up  the  book  and  read 
at  least  one  of  them  over  again.  They  certainly  were  sweet  and  lovable  girls, 
were  these  three  daughters  of  the  '  lost  cause,'  who  sacrificed  so  much  for  their 
country,  and  yet  won  so  much  in  the  end." — The  Rochester  Herald. 

"  It  is  a  pleasure  to  read  the  book,  it  is  so  refined  in  purpose  and  manner.  Its 
characters  are  the  clean,  honorable  American  men  and  women  who  fought  on  both 
sides  of  the  Civil  War,  and  rendered  efficient  help  as  non-combatants." — Montgom- 
ery Advertiser. 

" '  Three  Daughters  of  the  Confederacy'  seems  to  tell  a  story  in  itself.  It  is  a 
tale  of  the  war  ia  which  love  and  hatred,  pathos  and  patriotism  bled,  and  the 
author  has  given  some  excellent  sidelights  on  the  contest  whose  echoes  still  ring. 
A  rattling  good  story." — Philadelphia  Inquirer. 

"  The  three  heroines  are  charming  as  only  the  girls  of  the  Southland  can  be, 
and  each  one  of  them  was  devoted  to  the  cause  of  the  Confederacy  during  the  War 
of  the  Rebellion.  Mr.  Brady  makes  good  use  of  the  scenes  of  war  in  his  novels, 
finding  in  them  material  for  many  remarkable  adventures,  and  his  descriptions  of 
men  and  battles  are  always  read  with  both  interest  and  profit."— Milwaukee 
Evening  Wisconsin. 

"  No  Northern  writer  has  held  forth  more  sanely  upon  the  great  issues,  nor 
done  more  to  cement  the  love  interests  of  the  North  and  South  than  Brady.  Where 
find  we  more  glowing  tributes  to  the  charming  girls  who  live  in  Dixie  than  fall 
from  this  genial  author's  versatile  pen  ?  "—Club  Fellow. 

Illustrated  with  Six  Beautiful,  Three  Color  Pictures  by  Marchand. 
Beautifully  bound  in  Cloth.    Price  $1.50. 

G.W.  DILLINGHAM  CO.,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


WHAT  THE  FOREIGN  PRESS  SAYS  OF 

THE  CORNER  IN  COFFEE 

By  CYRVS  TOWNSEND  BRADY 

The  London  Guardian  says:  "  A  delightful  story  of  commerce  and 
love,  describing  how  Elijah  D.  Tillotson  cornered  the  coffee  market  in 
New  York,  and  then  gallantly  broke  up  his  own  '  corner '  rather  than 
ruin  Constance  Livingstone;  and  how  Constance  Livingstone  ran  the 
gauntlet  of  Society.  Mr.  Brady  rightly  rejoices  that  he  has  given  us  in 
Constance  Livingstone,  the  heiress  leader  of  New  York  Society,  a  heroine 
of  thirty-five,  and  delightful  she  is,  possessed  of  many  mature  charms,  a 
ripe  experience,  a  comprehensive  wardrobe,  and  a  dainty  ankle;  and  in 
addition  sound  qualities  of  head  and  heart  that  cause  her  to  see  below 
the  surface  of  Society  and  appreciate  the  real  and  not  the  sham  man. 
Brightly  written,  the  dialogue  sparkling  with  humor,  full  of  incident  and 
action,  '  The  Corner  in  Coffee '  should  find  considerable  favor  in 
England;  in  America  it  should  prove  a  sensation.  The  pictures  of  Wall 
Street  are  graphically  drawn;  and  the  criticism  of  all  corners  and  trusts 
should  gratify  the  popular  taste." 

The  Glasgow  Herald  says:  "  Both  sides  of  the  romance,  the  sensa- 
tional and  the  speculative,  are  equally  well  managed.  Mr.  Brady  is 
master  of  the  intricacies  of  woman's  ways  and  of  Wall  Street,  and  the 
reader  imbibes  knowledge  while  he  enjoys  a  cleverly  constructed  and 
exciting  story." 

The  Edinburgh  Scotsman  says:  "Not  many  British  clergymen 
would  dare  to  tackle  a  subject  of  this  kind.  But  they  look  at  things 
differently  in  the  States,  and  it  must  be  acknowledged  that,  wherever  he 
has  got  his  information,  Mr.  Brady  shows  familiarity  with  the  ways  of 
Wall  Street.  The  story  has  a  good  deal  of  go,  and  will  have  an  attraction 
for  readers  who  dabble  in  the  Stock  Exchange.  The  illustrations  suggest 
very  effectively  some  stirring  passages  of  the  text." 

The  London  Morning  News  says:  "A  well  written  story  of  love 
and  Wall  Street,  a  story  that  marks  its  author  as  possessed  of  much 
constructive  as  well  as  dramatic  ability.  It  runs  with  vigor  from  start 
to  finish,  and  Elijah  D.  Tillotson  ought  to  take  rank  among  the  true 
gentlemen  of  fiction." 

Fourth  Edition.     Illustrated,  ismo,  cloth  bound.     $1.50. 

G.  W.  DILLINGHAM  CCX,  Publishers,  NEW  YORK 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  039  367     8 


